Crimson Skies: Adventures of Zach Chance
by Brendan2097
Summary: I started writing this in about 2005-2006, mostly because I enjoyed playing Crimson Skies : High Road to Revenge and found the alternate history of the real world it presented compelling. I didn't plot out a storyline first. Not totally canon/edited.


_**CRIMSON SKIES**_

**Chapter 1**

Clipped Wings.

The dream had been with him, as long as he could recall gazing up at the perfect, cloudless sky and watching the white vapour trails stretch across the horizon like ink on a page. On a still day they remained for what seemed like hours, bleeding and diffusing so slowly you almost couldn't see it happening. Since he had been a child he had imagined what it felt like to be up there, writing in the sky. There was a vision, burned into his mind from a hundred dreams of flying into a sunrise. The sky was streaked with colour, the carpet of clouds below shaded a hue of pink and orange. It was always filled with a feeling of complete serenity that made him feel totally at peace with the world, and as though time was standing still and he had transcended the cares of life. He was fascinated by the _ymbolize machines which gave humanity a chance to live such dreams... Aeroplanes and zep'pellins. Yet they were not serene, at least not when they performed their purpose. It was not a dream or a miracle which let them swoop and climb, it was technology. And it was loud- how well he knew that now. An engine was a roaring, belching, throbbing cacophony of power and Zachery Chance loved it.

Taking in the clear sky and inhaling the fresh, orchard scented air, Zach decided it would be a fine day to fly. The local fliers would probably be out racing along the river, and Zach wished he could join them. As a young man of twenty one years of age, Zach Chance was tall and athletic from an active life. His medium brown hair was sunbleached at the tips and his eyes were keen pools of dark lacquer. His face was handsome and tanned the colour of desert sand just beneath the surface. It was easy to see he was active and spent much of his time outdoors, and if you looked closely you could see paler ovals around his eyes. The reason for the tan line usually hung around his neck- a pair of tinted flying goggles. Zach had made his childhood dream a reality early, flying a biplane on his own for the first time at 14 years old. He loved speed in nearly every form and whether motorcycle, automobile or aircraft – he drove them hard. Now, he was a bush pilot and assistant mechanic, flying a crop- duster in the growing season and working at a small airstrip in the orchard town of Apricot Hill during fall and winter.

The work let him pursue his passion- flying low and by the skin of his teeth, and save some money to put towards the purchase of his own brand new ultra-performance plane. Zach already owned one of course, an old Sanderson S- 12B 'Dust Devil' biplane he had rented to own second hand and then restored to factory fresh over the last couple of years. She had a two-tone paint job, shining chrome work and racing type engine gauges which Zach had ordered from a specialist company out of state. She wasn't too quick but a skilled pilot could make her dance. Truth be told Zach wasn't a skilled pilot... ask any of the fliers in town, or the farmers whose crops he _ymbolized, and they all had the same answer. He was the best they'd seen, and one crazy son of a gun with no fear.

That day brought a warm afternoon, but not so hot that Zach was sweating as he worked. He had just finished maintenance work on a plane a customer had brought in, complaining of sluggish starting and weak radio reception. The pilot had been up north, near the Industrial States, and Zach had had a hunch which turned out to be correct. Water had been seeping in through the engine hatch, and the magneto was rusty. Zach cleaned it up, changed the rubber seal, and looked for signs of other problems, but was not surprised to find everything else in working order. Locking up the hangar he went to the canteen shed and washed his hands, as there was no more work to do. Zach picked up his fliers jacket and walked slowly across the airfield, towards the dirt road that led towards town and his home halfway between. It was modest, but it wasn't quite a one room dump and he rented it off the airfield's owner on the cheap side – all the better to save money for new parts for his Dust Devil and motorbike. As he often did, Zach sat on his porch and watched the skies and sipped a ginger beer. Even if he'd wanted a real one, which he didn't often, prohibition made them hard to get. Even gut rotting firewater was more readily available around Apricot Hill, distilled secretly in hidden locations on farms or in corroded sheds in the plains just across the border in Arixo. Zach had used the stuff to unclog engine parts on a few occasions, and considered it a better degreaser and accelerant than beverage.

As he relaxed he thought about the Eye in the Sky bulletin he'd heard on the radio earlier that day. There'd been a little action in the air, bandits attacking a convoy of transport Zep's in the neighbouring county. Sometimes when he was flying he would imagine what it would be like to live that life, to test your skill and daring and your machine against another man's... the prize glory and wealth. If there was adventure and danger to be had in the world, sky piracy was the twentieth century's high seas. Deciding on a whim to take his plane for a spin, Zach leapt up and pulled off his coveralls as he went inside. A few minutes later he was wearing his favourite set of clothes, tan cargo pants, a white T-shirt, brown leather flying jacket and an old fashioned red and blue bandana about his neck. Like the cowboys of old he sometimes needed it to keep from choking on dust or, more often in Spring, _ymbolized.

Riding swiftly back to the airfield Zach waved as he saw the owner, Ted West. The white-bearded man had served in the army during the Great War, and sometimes commented that he sensed it would not be the last one. Zach made swooping motions with his hands, and Ted replied with a nod and the thumbs up. Heading towards the hangar where he kept his Dust Devil, nature's call made itself all too apparent, and knowing the cockpit of a plane was no place for a full bladder Zach went by the airstrip's none too stately throne. It was as he was stepping out with a relieved expression on his face that Zach saw the side door to one of the barn-like sheds ajar. Feeling certain that Ted West would have locked them all up, he jogged over to do it himself. The sound of something being shifted across packed earth slowed his pace, and he pulled up short. Silently he moved closer, listening carefully with his back to the hangar. After a few moments he was certain someone was inside, but some twang in his gut told him it wasn't one of the other field hands. He leant over and eased the door wide enough to fit his head through, then peered slowly through the gap.

The hangar was dim, but like most of the others it was kept tidy and had few valuable items stored inside. There was however an aeroplane, a blue and white Curtiss model 10 Skypony which Zach himself had been charged with over-hauling. It was a postal courier, and saw a lot of mileage, so he had been told to be thorough, but he was waiting on some replacement parts. Hauling aside the chocks was a man, obviously a flier by his garb, and looking as if he intended to get airborne quickly. Zach's mouth fell open in amazement, and then he frowned and slipped out of sight. He hadn't caught anyone trying to steal a plane before, but he figured he should have something in his hand before he put a stop to it. Snatching up a discarded strut brace he pulled open the door and strode smartly inside, remembering something important about the Curtiss.

"Funny, you don't look like a postman-" he quipped, but stopped and swore to himself as he _ymboliz the man was no longer by the plane. He was just inside the door, to Zach's left.

"You should'nt judge a book by its cover" a smooth voice replied. It was calm and masculine and belonged to a rakish looking man in his early thirties, with sparkling eyes and a lop-sided grin. The .45 automatic pistol he held at hip height backed up his confidence in a way Zach had to appreciate.

"…Be gentle, I haven't been shot before," Zach muttered, lowering his makeshift club. The man smiled and waved him inside.

"There doesn't have to be a first time for everything," he said, and Zach dropped his weapon to the ground when the man gestured with his weapon. "Look, I just need to borrow a ride, mind if I take this?" the thief grinned.

"Are we gonna vote on it?" Zach asked, almost smiling. Somewhat surprised at himself, he wondered if he was in shock. Or maybe it was because the man was grinning so good naturedly, like they were old pals. The stranger shrugged. "Hey, this is a democracy. I just get _two_ votes..." He hefted his pistol.

Zach saw that he wore a holster low on his hip with a military-like bandolier of extra clips for his pistol, and had pants much like his own and a padded jacket leather jacket. A patch was sewn on the front of four tarot cards, and Zach's mind worked on why they seemed familiar. The man's voice intruded on his thoughts, jolting him to full alertness. "Get the hangar doors, will ya kid?" he said as he backed towards the plane. Zach almost did, and then nodded towards the Curtiss. "I wouldn't bother with this one" he said, and the older man gave him a 'Think twice before you mess with me' look. "No, really" he said honestly. "You just might get off the ground, but you'd be coming down the hard way within a mile. I drained the oil reservoir when I took the engine apart, and I'm still waiting on replacement factory spec' plugs. You'd just be grinding metal till the engine seized..."

The man narrowed his eyes, and chewed on his lip, studying Zach. "Hmph. Just my luck – a grease monkey who doesn't like grease." He gave the plane an annoyed look and moved towards Zach, noticing his flying goggles. "Hmmm... What are these for?" he murmured quietly, and Zach knew what he was thinking as he took in his jacket and gloves and started to smile.

"Glare? Welding? I'm... going... skiing in Free Colorado...?" Zach said hopefully, but he knew it was pointless.

"Say, buddy that's fantastic!" The stranger said, smiling broadly and lightly punching Zach on the shoulder. "I can use your plane? Swell! Where is she!"

Zach blinked slowly and groaned in frustration. At least the Curtiss was safe, that should make Mister West happy. "C'mon, I'll show you..."

The thief winked and clapped Zach on the back. "That's the spirit, son!"

Zach pulled the cover sheet off his Dust Devil and appreciated her more than he ever had before as he looked at her wistfully. The stranger holstered his weapon and nodded as he deftly vaulted into the cockpit. He turned and gave Zach a mock salute. "Thanks, she'll do fine." He rested one arm over the side as if he was cruising in an automobile through a country lane. "You're a champ, kid. Hey, get another plane-we'll do this again sometime!"

Zach had to laugh at the pilot's smooth talk and relaxed demeanor. In a strange way, he was highly professional. He had a gun but wasn't relying on it to get his way. Suddenly Zach remembered what the Tarot card patch on the man's jacket _ymbolized. Justice, Wealth, Lovers, Death- the symbol of the one of the most successful and infamous pirate bands to hunt the skies of the Independent States of North America.

"Hey!" he shouted over the thrum of the Dust Devil's radial engine. "You're a Fortune Hunter, aren't you?"

The pilot nodded back. "Nathan Zachary, commander of the Pandora..." He spoke loudly but clearly, as if used to speaking over the roar of engines. "I don't usually rob the working man, but I've got to get back to my crew in a hurry. Get the doors, would you?"

Zach ran to the hangar doors and hauled them quickly open. The crop duster edged forward as the pirate captain slowly released the brakes, giving Zach time to get out of the way. But he ran up to the cockpit once more, which was set well back in the airframe, and jogged along beside the fuselage.

"So where's your plane?" he shouted, and the pirate leaned over to reply.

"About four miles north of here, near an old covered bridge" he shouted. The pirate smiled roguishly, his eyes glinting. "Say, we could make this a trade if you like... My plane for yours!"

Zach jumped clear as Nathan Zachary opened the throttle and the Dust Devil surged away, moving quickly onto the short runway and taking off with plenty to spare. Zach watched as his plane rolled twice in farewell, then turned northeast and vanished into the distance.

Zach was silent and still for a few moments as he stood outside his empty hangar.

"So... What did I get out of this?" he said to himself, tarot cards and vapour trails floating in front of his eyes.

**Chapter 2**

The Doer Upper.

When Zach ran over to Ted West's home overlooking the airfield, his boss was surprised to see him standing on the veranda.

"Hey Zach, didn't I just see you take off?" he asked puzzled. Zach sighed, not feeling as angry as he imagined he would have had someone told him yesterday his plane would be stolen.

"No, that was the bandit who commandeered my machine. On the bright side sir, it wasn't a client's."

Zach gave a quick report to Mister West, but his mind was elsewhere. "Actually sir, I wanted to borrow the truck and hoist and check something out." Ted readily agreed and tossed Zach the keys.

"You're not gonna try and follow him in it are ya, son. I reckon he might've slipped away b'now."

Zach grinned, and pointed over his shoulder. "I think you're right sir. Say, do you know how far the county limits extend north?"

Ted nodded slowly, although there was a perplexed look in his eye. "Sure, to the bridge at the ravine, bout three and a half miles yonder. The one I hear you like to fly under when you show off for the girls... What are you up to?"

Zach shook the keys and turned to go, one eyebrow raised. "I'm hoping I'll find a doer upper" he smiled. "And, with any luck, it'll be neutral salvage territory".

It took fifteen minutes for Zach to reach the old covered bridge, his eyes sharp for any sign of wreckage to either side of the road. It had once had barn like doors which could be closed off, but some bootleggers had crashed through it years ago and Sheriff Brody hadn't bothered fixing it since it obviously didn't form much of a barricade and a steel door would be expensive. And besides, most contraband was transported by air now, so the roads were becoming ever more disused. Zach maneuvered the big truck across, hoping the old bridge would take the weight. It had at some stage been reinforced with steel beams, and despite a creak or two of protest held firm.

As a pilot himself, Zach knew what to look for in an emergency landing site, and spotting a flat field ahead bounded on two sides by trees he headed for it. Easing the truck off the road he went cross country, looking carefully about. Up ahead he noticed one of the trees with a number of broken branches high up, and quickly guided the truck towards it. Beyond a low ridge Zach found the wreckage, and he couldn't keep himself from whooping with excitement. Jumping down from the truck he ran towards it and surveyed it from every side, finding every one of its dented lines beautiful.

It was a Hughes Aviation Devastator... Streamlined fuselage, swept-back double wings, and a pusher type propeller with the engine mounted in the rear. This one was the first he'd seen for real, but despite what he'd read in aviation magazines he would have known it was a warplane with even a casual glance. It was designed and fabricated by a specialist manufacturer near Los Angeles, and utilized special precision parts made with unusual and expensive compounds as well as a daring design. Two Henschel 20mm cannons were mounted in the long bullet-like nose, dusty stains fading behind their muzzles proof they'd seen use. Further back the gull wing-like upper wings carried a pair of Browning .50 calibre machine guns on either side of the cockpit, their perforated outer barrels projecting aggressively forward a metre. Their firepower must have been incredible! It was obvious she'd been in a fight, with trails of bullet holes riddling her aluminium airframe and one of the two rudders shredded.

The hit that had brought her down however was on the upper port side wing- half of it had been sheared off and was nowhere to be seen. It seemed to Zach that a collision might had been the cause, but if so then the pilot had done well to set her down in more or less one piece. Even the under- carriage was down, although it was buckled on the damaged side where the mounting bolts had sheared off. Zach checked inside the cockpit, and saw that the fuel flow had been turned off already. There was a cigarette card stuck to the dash- for company on long flights, but besides from that it had been cleared out. He checked his watch and the dimming sky, and decided to get to work. No way was he leaving this treasure out overnight!

Zach soon realised that although he could use the truck's hoist to lift the Devastator, it wouldn't fit through the covered bridge. Closer inspection, however, led him to a discovery that would make his task much simpler. Designed to be more easily transported by railway or stored in the limited confines of a carrier zep', the Devastator had folding wings which shortened its width considerably. Even better, the damaged wing looked like it had been shorn off at the joint, so fixing it was a matter of replacing or building the part. Although he was more of a pilot than a mechanic, Zach had little difficulty folding the warplane's wings with the tools the truck carried. He would be working into the night to get it home, he figured, but he aimed to have his salvaged plane stored in his newly free hangar before midnight. Setting up two worklights from the truck's tool bin before the natural light failed, Zach went to work with excitement.

The sound of a compressed air pump sputtering to life woke him the next morning, and he eased himself upright on the old couch, blinking at the narrow blades of sunlight filtering through gaps in the hangar walls and the small dusty windows. Zach smiled as he took in the sight before him. It had been a little more tricky than he had hoped to bring the clipped war- bird home by himself, but he had done it and was rightly pleased with himself. And he felt strongly protective of it already. Even if Nathan Zachary and his entire pirate crew swooped in guns blazing to take it back, he wouldn't give it up without a fight. He ran his hands over the silver metal, the black and crimson gloss paint, and wished he could get to work immediately. Zach usually enjoyed his job, but he loved flying much more and only wanted to be up in the Devastator. Taking up some large oil and paint marred tarps he covered the fractured plane and headed for work, giving it a long wistful look as he locked the door behind him.

Zach worked as hard as he could that day, hoping to make it rush by as fast as possible. The Sheriff called by to take a statement and the details of Zach's missing plane, but was honest about the very slim possibility of getting it back. Sheriff Brody did confirm one thing, however.

"A couple of transport Zep's were passing through east of town yesterday, early afternoon. Must have carried a decent cargo since they had a squadron of Burbank Boys flyin' escort. They got hit by by pirates who were hiding in the shadowed side of the valley, one mid- sized carrier zep' armed to the teeth and two fighters... Some of the downed fliers say it was the Fortune Hunters." Sheriff Brody maneuvered his chewing tobacco around in his mouth with an awed look in his eyes. "Even at four to one them brigands weren't afraid of hitting that convoy," he said in amazement. "They gotta be just a little crazy in the head, don't ya think?"

Zach considered Nathan Zachary, and nodded with the hint of a grin on his handsome features. "Or just real confident, Sheriff" he answered.

Brody snorted and adjusted his stensen, removing it to dab a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. "Well, I don't want them gettin' too confident on my patch, Mister Chance. I'll be applying to the mayor for funding to upgrade the town's air defences, and maybe to hire on another full-time deputy..." He looked keenly at Zach, and it was obvious who he thought should apply for the job. "You're a dang good pilot, Zach. And you ain't got no lack of courage – good qualities for an officer of the law. The town could use you up there in case the pirate and smuggler problem gets any worse. It seems like with more an' more zep' convoys in the skies, our stretch o' blue is getting kinda busy."

Zach started to reply but Brody cut in. "- Even part time, Zach, when you're not dustin'", he said affably. "Although I reckon I could pay ya more than ya make crop dusting, if you sign on full time."

Zach grinned and shrugged. "Sure, I appreciate the offer –and I'll think on it, sheriff. You can always count on me to man the AA guns in a pinch, anyway. Hey, how many planes were downed yesterday?"

Brody laughed and rolled his eyes. "Hah! Teddy asked me the same thing. Enough to put some work your way, I'm sure. There are eight pilots and some zep' crew holed up in town whose rides came down around here, some harder 'n others. And I think one of 'em collided with a pirate, so I reckon that's who probably took yer plane. Would've raced of after his zep' I suppose. They got a good haul, from what the convoy master tells me. After one the first zep' crashed down the others ejected their cargo and the pirates picked it up."

Zach nodded thoughtfully. "So the Burbank Boys can fly outta here in any of their planes we can fix. What about one that came down outside of town?"

"If they want it bad enough, I'm sure they'll reimburse you for hauling it back," the sheriff said somewhat confused. Zach nodded dismissively and clarified his question. "But if they don't claim it, and it went down outside the county line, then it's finders keepers right?"

The sheriff grunted and squinted his eyes together as he considered. "Erm, yeah right. If it's unclaimed territory then the salvage rights goes to first person on the scene who can get it back somewhere with laws. Anywhere north-west of here is in the disputed territories. Someone might contest your claim later and as a gentleman you might want to give it up, but possession is nine tenths of the law in most places. Especially if you find something in the DT." Brody gave a snort and looked doubtfully at Zach. "You're not wanting one of the Burbank Boy's planes are ya? Best not to mess with an outfit like that, Zach - they work for the Hollywood Militia and we may be a ways from LA, but we've still got a president."

Zach shook his head, and smiled innocently. "No sir, I don't think there's a problem with the Burbank Boys..."

Zach was kept busy for the next week, but working quickly with the other mechanics they were able to get four of the downed Burbank Cougar fighters operational again, and stripped the rest for parts and their guns - earning good cash for Ted West. Zach had all but moved into his hangar, sleeping on the old couch after staying at night and working on the Devastator. After the Burbank pilots had moved on, Ted West offered the wrecked cougar parts towards Zach's project, but he was hesitant to use any. He wanted only the right components, and he wanted them new so the Devastator would be reborn gloriously and perfect, like a rising phoenix. Thinking of that made him regard the plane's paint job. He liked the colours, but he thought the Skull and Crossbones on the wings would have to go, lest he attract unwanted attention from the sheriff's new AA guns which were being installed at good vantage points around town. In good spirits Zach continued his work, his excitement for his project keeping his energy levels boundless, despite urgings from Mister West to take it easy. Finally the retired army mechanic ordered three days break for everyone, but Zach didn't slow down. He was surprised when a small package was delivered to him at the airstrip by the Curtiss Skypony on its weekly run through town. It was wrapped carefully in brown paper, and his name was written in bold black handwriting. Tearing it open he found a well-used manual for the Hughes Aviation Devastator and a selection of rare cigarette cards featuring beautiful models and actresses. Flicking through the pile a note slipped out, which read simply:

**"**_**I thought you might need this. Hope there aren't any hard feelings kid, but hey- I'm a pirate. Be sure to pick a favourite gal – it's tradition. Good luck." **_

_**N.Z.**_

Nathan Zachary had given him his plane? Armed with the technical manual and his scrimped cash, Zach was determined to have the Devastator airborne as soon as he could. And then he'd show the townsfolk some real flying.

**Chapter 3**

The Recruit.

Six weeks later… 3-2-1- Contact! The roar of power was almost deafening as the MK III Devastator's 1500+ horse power engine came to life, sending the twin six- bladed prop into a blur in moments. Her wings were restored, the bullet holes plugged, her fresh paint wax-polished and gleaming. Zach had ordered factory parts for the damaged internals and built a replacement wing-tip with the help of Ted West by studying the opposite one and carefully reproducing it with the aid of the manual. They'd been careful to match the weight as closely as possible, and visually at least the fix looked good.

To the cheers of the airstrip's crew, Zach let the Devastator roll out onto the field, the most magnificient plane to have taxied across its hard-packed earth and old asphalt. Sliding closed the armoured canopy, Zach eased the throttle forward and grinned as he was pushed back into his seat by the acceleration. He eased back on the stick and felt the difference between a pusher and puller craft immediately, the centre of balance quite dissimilar to his Double Dee. He looked down to see the ground rush by below as the plane was sucked skyward. Zach flew carefully at first, performing circuits of the airfield while he got used to the way his new bird handled and the feel of the yoke.

A new touch was required, more work with the rudder, less with the pedals. The front stabilisers had their own independent controls which needed to be adjusted at lower speeds. Once he had a feel for it, Zach gunned the engine and opened the intake vents to feed the hungry fuel injectors. The engine revved freely and the potential power thrilled the young pilot. Simply put, the kit-set warplane was the best ride he'd ever had.

"Time to check out your top end, Ella" he whispered with a glance to the picture he had attached to the dashboard of a young brunette model he'd chosen to be his cockpit companion. "Hold on, Miss Veronica Lake," he grinned at the second card he'd chosen, being torn between the two. Zach pushed the throttle wide open and the engine started to shake the pilot's chair. The intercoolled supercharger sucked in fuel and air like the big bad wolf she was, and from the look-out tower above the airfield the ground crew pointed as fire seemed to dance about the engine's exhausts. Inside the cockpit Zach felt the plane vibrate and pull slowly to the left with the massive torque the engine developed as the revs quickly built. He watched as the airspeed indicator spun clockwise faster than he'd ever seen in his Dust Devil, except perhaps for during a dive.

180 miles per hour... 200...220. Zach was already travelling faster than he ever had before. He pulled back and began to climb, and the Devastator continued to pick up speed.

"Haven't seen that before..." he said, watching the needle creep slowly upwards as he flew on a gentle angle to the heavens. The world seemed huge and flat, and from his vantage point Zach could see all the farms he had dusted in his flying career. He suddenly realised he had never flown any great distance from where he lived, that he hadn't even seen the great cities to the east or even Hollywood much to the west.

At 235 miles per hour and more than twelve thousand feet up, Zach gritted his teeth. "Okay, honey. Let's see who begs for mercy first."

He pulled back into a loop, hearing the whine from the mechanical fuel injection sing louder, and rolled the plane when he was inverted so that he dived down the 'right way' up. Clenching his gut to try to keep it from exiting his body, Zach was only falling forward on his harness for a moment before he was being pressed back into his seat again as though by a none too gentle invisible hand. The engine's pitch rose, accompanied by a shrieking whine as the wind rushed past the canopy glass. Through squinting eyes Zach saw the dull green fields and dappled orchards outside of town race towards him, blurred by the turmoil of the Devastator's descent.

Glancing at the vibrating speedometer he couldn't believe what he read. "- 300 MILES PER HOUR!" he screamed to himself, because his lungs were utterly unable to function with the G-force trying to crush his chest. The Devastator's double bank eighteen cylinder engine featured a transmission system which allowed the most engine power to be used in emergencies, and the manual recommended switching to 'high gear' once two-hundred and seventy miles per hour was reached. Zach pulled the clutch, shifted the gear and reengaged the engine, grinning as the motor took on a deep roar which once more crept up into a whining storm of sound. He adjusted the propeller pitch angle and felt the vibrations of the plane alter slightly, the engine noise become more refined. At 3000 ft Zach knew he'd better pull up, but it was hypnotising watching the airspeed needle creep upwards, to touch virgin numerals around the dial.

330 miles per hour was indicated on the shaking dial as Zach hauled backwards on the control column with all his might, slamming on the front flaps a moment later to halt the Devastator's power dive. With a sound like a raging dragon the sleek biplane levelled out and Zach disengaged the flaps to skim along barely 100 feet above the ground, sucking in lungfuls of air and grinning in amazement. The town was off to his left, and already people had rushed out, expecting to witness a fiery crash. Zach came around to the end of the main street at 320 miles per hour and threw the plane into a tight Immelmann turn to come racing back along town as a crimson streak.

A rooster- tail of dust was sucked skyward behind the Devastator as Zach took it in low, shops flashing by to each side and drivers in cars and trucks throwing themselves down in terror. Rolling the plane a few times for good measure Zach quickly thought better of invoking sheriff Brody's wrath and climbed steeply away, scrubbing airspeed but gaining height rapidly. He re-engaged the prop-speed limiter and adjusted the pitch again, getting a feel for how best to tune the settings on the fly. His radio came to life with a hiss even as he did, and he quickly fine-tuned the dial selector for the general band.

"Attention pilot red biplane, I say attention pilot who just HOOVERED the Apricot Hill main street! This is Sheriff Brody, and you just went through restricted airspace, mister... Damn it, you flew so low it'll be a miracle if our telegraph cables are still up!"

"Whoa, hey there Sheriff – real sorry!" Zach cut in hurridly, pretty certain he hadn't clipped any wires.

Dang! Was that you flying, Zachary Chance?"

Zach grinned and adjusted his microphone over his mouth. "Roger that, sheriff, it was me. Sorry 'bout that- just had a little... er, fuel flow problem. But she's sorted now."

Zach could almost hear the sheriff spitting his tabacco over the radio. "Fuel problems my ass, flyboy! Yeah – too much fuel! I know what you was doing, ya done nearly smashed my office window with that stunt. I can hear dogs cryin'!"

"I'm very sorry sheriff" Zach said soberly. "It won't happen again."

"Ya better be, Zach. Especially since there ain't a hope in hell of me catching ya anyways, at least until you land..."

Zach made a face, unsure just how angry the law-man was. "Um, do I want to land sir, or would my hide be safer if I made other arrangements... such as flying south to United Mexico until my fuel runs out?"

Finally the sheriff's drawl relaxed, and Zach breathed a sigh of relief. "Hah- don't skip the county on my account, Zach. Just rememember to fly safely when you're near the town, is all. Umm, yer plane looks good."

"Yes sheriff, I will, point taken. And thanks, just giving her a shakedown run."

"Fine. But I mean _MY_ idea of safely, not yours," the sheriff added. "Some folks in town have got have weak hearts, they don't need scaring to death..."

Another voice spoke up, that of the sheriff's lieutenant Deputy Joe Stanley. There was a steady rumble in the background indicating he was up in his patrol plane- an aptly named 'Constable'. "Excuse me sheriff, just to let you know I've spotted that transport convoy that was delayed by weather. They're crossing Chester's Grove west of Apricot Hill now."

"Roger that, Joe. I'm on my way. And Zach, you better keep that new plane of yours out of sight, it's liable to stir up tensions amongst the convoy zep's, and I promised I'd keep an eye on 'em."

Zach let his finger caress the gun trigger and smiled wickedly. He'd discovered there were still two - hundred rounds in the machine guns, and a third of that in the cannons when he set to work fixing the plane. He wanted to set up a target somewhere remote and see what it was like to fire them. He'd have to okay it with the sheriff, though, or Brody would probably have more words for him. "Roger that, sheriff" Zach sighed. I'll make myself scarce, Chance out."

Zach still had a tank full of gas so he headed for the river valley to the north, flying at 200 feet and cruising at 140mph. The Devastator's engine settled into a low purr, running sweetly after Zach had carefully repaired and tuned it according to the specifications set out in the technical manual he'd been sent. The wide torque and power band was designed to allow the Devastator to lose and gain speed easily for fancy maneuvers, but it used a little more aviation fuel at cruising speed than most planes. The radial engine was air-cooled and lighter than an in-line engine, which meant the power to weight ratio was high. The devastator was also more reliable in a dogfight, since it was easy for enemy bullets to puncture the water reservoirs and cause the engine to overheat. The supercharger was reported to be very reliable and hidden away from potential damage.

In the back of his mind Zach was worried that Nathan Zachary would come back to reclaim his plane now that it was flying again. Even if he gave back Zach's Dust Devil, he thought he'd feel disappointed to give up the Devastator. His new plane was faster, thanks to its modern engine and streamlining, and almost as maneuverable due to its staggered double wings, front mounted elevators and twin rudders. Diving down Zach followed the river, clearing his mind of thought as he brushed by just above the trees. The crystal clear water shimmered below as he swung left and right. The valley was rather open and straight where he was, so to increase the challenge and test himself Zach flipped his plane over and flew the course inverted. He was just starting to feel light- headed when he noticed movement and a second coloured glint on the water behind his own plane's reflection. Immediately Zach pushed down hard on the control stick, slammed on the flaps and rolled all at once to bring himself right way up.

Something flashed by beneath and Zach dived again to bring down his nose to get a clear view rather than rely on the bombing periscope. It was another Hughes Devastator, painted in silver, black, white and crimson in a similar scheme to his own. The radio buzzed to life...

"What's the matter, get a bit turned around?" a masculine, slightly cocky voice said with amusement. The second Devastator began to jink from left to right as it flew the course, as if daring Zach to get him in his sights. Zach grinned, keeping close behind.

"What's the matter, Captain Zachary- worried I'll shoot ya?" he joked into his mic.

There was chuckling over the airwaves. "You could try! But If I thought that I would've downed you myself while you were in my sights trying to wash your canopy glass in the river," the pirate said. "And Zachary's your name. Call me Nathan."

Zach smiled and brought his plane alongside the pirate's so they could see each other barely 50 feet away. They gained height slowly.

"So, what do you think of a real plane?" the pirate asked. "Looks like you patched her up OK."

"I think I got a good deal..." Zach said carefully. "Although the spares I needed weren't cheap- hadda be zep'ped in from L.A. Thanks for the manual you sent me, by the way."

Nathan exhaled slowly. "Weeell, that wasn't just the kindness of my heart. I had an inkling to come here and maybe see if I could pinch her back..."

Zach's heart stopped- it was just as he feared. "... But now I've seen you fly Lulu, I think that would be a great injustice. And your Double-Dee ain't such a bad ride either, so I maybe we should stick to our deal and call it a fair trade."

Zach breathed a sigh of relief that Nathan caught over the radio, and gave a 'thumbs up' the pirate returned.

"Okay, deal. And she's called Ella now. Or Veronica – I can't decide if she's a brunette or a blonde. You know they say possession is nine tenths of the law, anyway..."

Nathan laughed easily. "Hell, I'll make a pirate of you yet!"

Zach started in his seat. "Hey, there's a convoy coming through right now- you're not here to raid it are you?"

"Relax, kid" Nathan said leading them in a slow turn back the way they had come. "I know about that, but we're on our way south to the gulf of Mexico. Those zep's don't have anything we want to steal. The main cargo is penicillin, I hear, and the Fortune Hunters don't steal from the Navajo tribes. They need that medicine."

Zach grinned and performed a lazy barrel roll around the other plane, Nathan's head rolling to watch him. "Good, the sheriff's on escort duty. Actually, he wants me to be a deputy…"

Nathan sighed and shook his head. "You'd be wasted in law enforcement, kid. They're over-stretched, outgunned and there's WAY more money on the other side of the coin."

Zach was flying straight and level, heading roughly north back to town. Not only was he blessed with good co-ordination, swift reflexes and a bottomless well of courage, but he had what was referred to as 'Fighter Pilot's Eye'. Zach could notice something when it was just a speck on the horizon, and he could tell if it was a bird not far off or big and just a long way away. And right now he could see a number of tiny black dots moving in all directions, and occasionally a tiny flash or glint.

Cursing, Zach flicked through the radio channels until he found the sheriff's frequency, and suddenly a hissing cacophony filled his ears. Engines, the chugg of machine guns and breathless human exchanges confirmed that something was definitely happening. Zach flicked back to the visual frequency and glared angrily at Nathan's plane. "You just said you were not going to attack the convoy!" he shouted hotly.

"What? I'm not, has the blood drained to your feet?" the pirate muttered. "I'm right here."

"Don't get tricky with words - someone's hitting it hard," Zach countered, checking his canopy was sealed firmly for action and opening the oxygen feed for his mask.

"I'm not pulling anything, Zach. It's not me or the Fortune Hunters. We're not the only sky pirates out there. They don't call 'em the crimson skies for nothing!

Zach said nothing as he opened the Devastator's throttle wide and raced towards town, climbing steadily and tuning the heavy fighter for speed. As he closed in he could see three small transport zep's in close formation, circling hard like the wild west wagon defence of old. Their dorsal gun turrets spat bursts of hot lead into the sky as a dozen compact planes made strafing passes. Two Bell 'Constables', siren lights flashing, both trailing smoke from damage to their engines were attempting to drive them off. From below, the town AA guns offered occasional bursts of fire, but were obviously afraid of hitting friends in the aerial melee. And from his high vantage point Zach saw the bandit's own zep' cruising closer, waiting the time to strike. On each side of her frame was painted a winged hammer, jagged lightning bolts leaping from its head. She was the Valhalla, and the pirates who struck out from her called themselves the 'Vikings of Asgaard'.

Zach had climbed high now, and rolling onto one side he surveyed the battle below. His Devastator had only a little ammunition left, and he hadn't been in a real dogfight before – just pretended with his friends, yet Zach knew if he didn't step in that the sheriff and deputy Stanley wouldn't last much longer. The transports would have to hand over their cargo or be shot down. 'I only have to lead them away from the transports', he thought. Then the town's guns can let rip! Zach took the Devastator vertical, the altimeter reading 16,000 feet when he cut the throttle and adjusted the prop pitch, engaged the flaps and induced a stall. The radial engine spluttered and nearly stopped as the fuel injection nearly cut out, and for an long moment he seemed to hang in mid air, neither climbing or falling.

Then slowly it seemed, the Devastator began to fall. Zach flipped it over so the nose pointed down into the circle of the three transports. The rush of the wind outside rose until it was an overwhelming sound, and Zach made deft touches on the controls whilst he flicked the ignition switch blindly.

Vvrrrllll...Vvrrrllll. The engine made gasping noises as Zach coolly tried to restart it. His old Dust Devil had been good at this stunt, he thought ruefully, always kicking in before the third attempt. Perhaps he shouldn't have tried it at such a vital point in time…

Vvrrrllll...Vvrrrllll chug-chug-chugg. Zach saw the raider planes rushing closer and put the engine out of his mind. He was lining up one of them, keeping the reflector gun sight just ahead of it. _Damn, what's the range on these guns?_ Zach thought to himself, his finger twitching on the trigger. He suddenly heard an edgy voice on the radio, and recognised Joe Stanley.

"Dammit! Sheriff, they got my fuel tanks- I'm leaking gas faster than my granny after thanksgivin' lunch! I can't stay in this, sir... Another hit and -"

There was a deep laugh, and Zach knew it must be one of the raiders.

"Thor salutes you, warrior!"

There was a flicker of machine gun fire and one of the constables burst into flame, spiraling away in a trail of greasy black smoke. Zach triggered his guns.

He hadn't heard or felt anything like it before. The entire Devastator throbbed as the weapons came to life, flame spewing from the muzzles in jagged cones. The stuccato Rat-Tat-Tat of the heavy machine guns was underscored by the slower 'Doom... Doom... Doom' of the twenty millimetre cannons. Brass cases streamed out behind the plane in a glittering chain. The result was simply explosive... The Viking plane Zach had been targeting erupted in an elongated fireball instantly under the weight of supersonic lead. Zach made himself release the trigger then, knowing he was just shooting through the debris. The gun counter ticked to 133 and stopped – two-hundred and eighty rounds from four guns plus twenty or so cannon shells had been easily enough firepower to scrap the bandit fighter! Zach rolled and pulled another unsuspecting raider into his sights, jerking the gun trigger for a split second. He saw the tracer fire streak into the plane near the base of the wing, which was torn away by the cannon rounds. The raider's plane immediately flew into a flat spin and like a flung dinner plane drifted away from the combat. 110 rounds remained in each .50 calibre gun, but perhaps ten bandits remained...

Zach flashed through the action and remembered his prop was no longer spinning. Behind him a number of planes peeled off and dived in pursuit, and his radio buzzed to life.

"Zach! We've ya been ya damn dust- head!" -_Sheriff Brody_...

"Rrragh! What the hell are you doing, Fortune Hunter? This is a Viking raid..." _The raider known as 'Thor.'_

Zach plunged downwards, rolling, jinking and still unpowered. His fingers flew over the controls and he turned over the engine once more - it gave a promising cough. Gliding at two - hundred miles per hour Zach hauled up the nose and swooped in over town towards the sheriff's station on a low ridge above the main street. Behind it was a short runway and hangar, and nearby...

-Four streams of tracer fire lanced out towards the Devastator as it ploughed towards the newly erected stubby AA tower. Little more than a raised steel platform with a powered hydraulic system and welded steel plates for cover, it boasted four .50 calibre machine guns with and a long radio aerial rising up from behind the bucket seat taken from an old tractor. Zach flipped sideways as long orange streaks blazed past with a high pitched whizz, missing him by only a few feet.

"Dammit- save it for them!" he hissed, holding his line as long as he could. The Devastator screamed past between the quad gun and the hangar, threatening to stall, and the gunner finally saw that Zach had lured three planes down with him. They now raced straight towards the AA tower, machine guns flicking bursts of lead after Zach. The gunner, who normally ran the filling station, opened up on the Vikings with snarl. The stream of bullets was inescapable for the lead plane, and aluminium panels and fabric trailed behind him as they were torn free. His wing mate swerved to avoid the debris, and caught a volley right on the nose. Black smoke burst from his plane as the engine block was riddled with lead. The third came in low and sprayed wildly at the AA gun whilst weaving from side to side.

Zach toggled the starter as he skimmed low over the sheriff's runway. Finally realising there was a safety device which prevented the Devastator starting with the engine in gear, Zach disengaged the propellor and was rewarded with a throb and surge from the engine behind him. Slamming the engine back into gear he felt an immediate burst of speed and control and he hurled the Devastator into a risky air- braked Immelmann turn. A Viking plane flashed into his sights, and Zach flicked the trigger.

_Rat-tat-tat-doom-rat-tat-tat-doom_! The tail section of the third plane disintegrated, sending it twirling out of control toward the low ridge behind the sheriff's base where it exploded with a dull boom. Zach gave the Devastator full throttle and climbed back towards the zep's with one plane trying to get on his tail. "Nice one, Zach!" Sheriff Brody called out over the radio, the light Gatling gun on his constable screaming. "Joe managed to bail. Hicks should be in the air soon."

One of the zep's tremored violently as an engine exploded, taking a rear bouyancy chamber with it. Zach aimed up at the circling fighters and squeezed his guns, causing the Vikings to scatter defensively. 60 rounds left in each of the machine guns, and only 20 in the cannons. He knew he could only hope to take out one or two more with a good helping of luck... The situation was grim.

A colourfully painted Viking plane dived towards him, machine guns spitting hatefully at the red plane. The raiders were flying modified civilian planes renamed 'Berserkers'. They were only lightly armed with two to four .303 calibre machine guns, but they seemed fairly capable handlers and were likely easy to maintain. However, it seemed their stretched fabric wings and only partially aluminium fuselage didn't stand up to much damage. Zach wasn't greatly impressed with the pilots, either, their actions were predictable, choreographed and just too slow to shake him. He guessed he had been a better flier when he was sixteen.

"So, you've come back to try and steal our loot?" a deep voice boomed over Zach's radio. "I think you're in over your head... I Thor, War-chief of Valhalla, will taste your blood!"

Zach grinned as he threw his plane into a punishing corkscrew turn which shook his pursuer and gave him the upper hand. "Are you for real?" he muttered, almost getting the bandit into his sights but cautious not to risk wasting his last burst of lead. "Sorry, I don't have a fancy call-sign... Er, that IS just your call sign, right?"

Zach had to roll quickly to the side as two charging Berserkers swept past with guns blazing. He pulled the Devastator into a loop and sought the pirate leader as the 360 degree panorama drifted by. "I mean, should I address you as 'Mister Thor', 'War Chief' or what?" The colourful berserker appeared suddenly, strafing past Zach's nose and managing to hit with a few inconsequential rounds, the heavier armour of the Devastator deflecting glancing hits. Immediately Zach took his plane into a gut wrenching turn and went after him. "So, did your mother sing opera? What kind of woman calls her kid Thor, anyway?"

"Don't mock me, fly-boy!" the leader snarled. "I embody the old Norse raider spirit. You are but an arrogant brigand, a cur to be whipped!"

"Please, it's SKYwayman!" Zach corrected, unable to resist the pun which had popped into his head, and enjoying enraging the pirate leader. The sound of bullets puncturing and ricocheting off his fuselage alerted Zach to the incoming berserkers, and he was forced to ignore Thor long enough for the pirate to shake Zach's otherwise tight pursuit.

"Rrrrgh... I'll see your wings clipped, Fortune Hunter."

"If you say so, Thor- Hankerchief of Valhalla..." Zach taunted into the radio, keeping his voice steady, his flying becoming almost automatic like his breathing.

"Let's burn this punk!" one of the raiders snarled. "He mocks our ancient traditions!"

Zach checked over his shoulder and pulled a few crop- dusting moves to evade his attackers, whilst keeping a look out for Thor's plane. "Hah, I'm all over your ass like a cheap pair of lederhosen, Mister Thor. In fact, if it weren't for all your little Thor-lings, you'd be swapping war-stories with Odin and Freya by now..."

He must have struck a nerve, as suddenly several of the planes turned their attention back to the transports as if ordered off. The cargo zep's had profited from Zach's distraction. Brody and the defensive turrets had sent two of the Vikings limping away towards their own zep', prowling a mile to the north-east, kept at bay by occasionally ranging bursts from the town's out gun positions, now being manned by feisty volunteers.

Zach accellerated and began to put some distance between him and his opponent. The Devastator's powerful engine meant it was faster and could climb more readily. He decided to put those factors to his advantage, and quickly gained altitude. Blurred points of yellow light zapped past as Thor raced after him firing freely. From his inspections over the past 8 weeks, Zach had seen that the Mark III Devastator had a reasonable weight of armour over its vulnerable areas, and it would take a decent hit to bring her down. Checking the rear-view mirrors set above the forward windscreen and in streamlined cowlings to either side of the canopy, Zach guessed he had at least 2000 feet between his Devastator and the trailing Berserker- enough to give him time to shoot if he turned quickly enough. He eased back on the stick for a moment then dove hard and pulled on the airbrakes whilst easing off the throttle. The Devastator pulled a 180 degree turn of controlled chaos and sent Zach speeding back towards Thor. Tracer fire sought him out as he flew head on into the Berserker's assault. In his frustrated state Thor held on too long, for whilst Zach's fighter was built to take a few hits and keep on running, the modified raider was a lightweight and fragile craft by comparison.

Zach smiled grimly and triggered his guns, emptying them into the oncoming plane. "Here come the Valkyries!" he yelled as he saw his attacks hit home. Tongues of fire and smoke poured forth as the Berserker crumbled then snapped in half, each piece passing to either side of Zach as he swept through victorious. "Get another plane, we'll do this again sometime!" he sang over the radio. Behind him he saw a burning figure leap from the cockpit as the Berserker disintegrated and fell in several blazing pieces. A parachute opened, and Zach nodded in satisfaction. Thor was out of the fight, but alive – and hopefully going to be arrested.

Meanwhile the half-dozen remaining Viking planes had one zep' on the point of destruction, and the others showing serious damage. They reissued their demand for the cargo pods to be jettisoned, and the Valhalla herself was cruising in snatch the prize. Sheriff Brody's Constable was a flying wreck when Zach reached the scene.

"Sheriff, looks like time for you to bug out..." he said firmly, cringing as a Berserker nearly caught him in a cross fire. Brody's radio was breaking up as he replied. "Affirmative... Sorry, but if I hit so much as a bug I'll be spitting the big tabaccah. "Good luck, son." Brody immediately dove down and headed for the runway at his office, hoping the AA gun would deter pursuit. "Don't be a hero. Let our guns keep at 'em."

Zach just kept moving, distracting the Viking planes as best he could but knowing that when the pirate zep' arrived he would have no choice but to make a run for it himself and leave the cargo zep's to their fate. Between them only two of their defensive turrets remained, their engines were damaged, and it was no longer enough to prevent the pirates from disabling and robbing them. Zach dived and spun, noticing as he did the guns on the Valhalla come to life, but their aim seemed rather off.

One of the Berserkers seemed keen to avenge his leader, coming after Zach with all four machine guns firing optimistic bursts. Zach let him get close, then triggered his air-brakes and let the pirate fly past, manouevring behind him and lining up a kill shot which he knew he couldn't make. His guns sputtered an instant, sending a mere dozen or so rounds into his target. 'Would've had ya…" he sighed, staying on the bandit's tail as the raider weaved to escape. Suddenly there were streaks of gunfire and the Berserker exploded into flames under a deadly barrage, plunging from the sky. Zach gasped and looked over his shoulder in surprise...

"Hey kid, not bad- We'll make a pirate of you yet!"

Nathan Zachary's Devastator came along side, and through the canopy he saw the wily pirate give a comradely salute.

"Thanks for that... " Zach said with relief. "I think these guys have mistaken me for one of your pirates trying to steal their prize."

Nathan laughed loudly and peeled away, Zach quickly deciding that right behind him might be a safe place to be. "I'm not surprised. You were doing a good impression. Wanna stop toying with 'em now?"

"My guns are dry, Nathan. I was thinking of flying in circles until they ran out of gas..."

"Oh man, he _is_ just like you!" a woman with a broad east coast Empire State accent interjected, and Zach looked across to see he was definitely no longer alone. Charging towards the Valhalla from behind Apricot Hill was a large white and red zep', heavily modified with gun turrets under and over and the giant emblem of the Fortune Hunters proclaiming her allegiance on his flanks. A storm of fire passed between the two zeps, and Zach saw a third Devastator strafing the Viking ship with guns and high- explosive rockets.

"Who'd have thought he'd be firing blanks, the poor young man..." the woman said in a snide tone. "C'mon on Nathan, are ya gonna help me get rid of these bearded idiots or what?"

The third Devastator drew the attention of much of the Viking firepower, but the pilot ably evaded most of it and began to scrap with the fighters.

"Hah- I think they heard that, Betty. Let's do it, "Nathan said as he sped into the fight. Zach hung back and watched as the rival pirate bands clashed, and it soon became clear the advantage in skill and equipment the Fortune Hunters possessed. After two intense minutes the Valhalla was burning, and most of her defences and planes were destroyed. She and the surviving Berserkers turned and retreated with all available speed, plumes of smoke and consuming fire marking their wounds.

"That oughta do it, people." Nathan Zachary said with a satisfied sigh. "Let 'em go."

The transport zep's were safe, but they knew the Fortune Hunters by reputation and flew quickly towards the town and its three AA guns like frightened children to their mother. Two landed safely in the field just outside town, but the most damaged caught fire and began a doomed descent. Her crew jettisoned the parachute equipped cargo pods and fled in the escape capsule moments before she exploded in three concussive blasts. Blackened wreckage fell like shooting stars in every direction whilst the townsfolk brave enough to watch the battle gasped in awe. Zach felt a tingle run down his spine as he watched, then felt an unexpected camaraderie as the two pirate Devastators flew into formation beside him. The warplanes passed over the town as the locals cheered and waved as though it were a parade. Nathan triggered smoke, laughing inwardly at the positive reception he so rarely enjoyed.

"Well, we don't often get this kind of welcome..." Nathan said to his wingman, amused. There was a snort and the female voice chided "Don't let it cloud your business sense, boss. Let's grab the loot and scoot."

"Hey, I was starting to like you..." Zach said reproachfully. "Don't go and blow it now."

Nathan laughed, and led the formation in a wide turn towards the red and white zeppelin which had taken up station a discrete distance from the town and her guns. "Stay cool, kid. We're opportunists, but today I'll make an exception." There was a moan from the third Devastator and Nathan cleared his throat. "Zachary Chance, the voice of reason there is Miss Betty Brooklyn. Betty, Zach."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am" Zach said civilly, hauling open his canopy and trying to see what she looked like. He guessed she was in her mid twenties, and probably a bit of tough cookie.

"Oh, way to go boss. Shout my name over the airwaves, it's not like the Law is after me or anything. Er, um- hi Zach. Nice to meet you, too. Looks like you can fly a plane okay. I told Nathan to send you the Devastator manual- sarcastically, but he took me seriously. Just as well, huh?"

Zach studied the pirate zep' as they cruised towards it, impressed by its size and six weapon turrets. She had plenty of engines and looked a veritable flying fortress.

"How many Vikings did you down?" Nathan asked, and Zach had to think for a moment, sorting through the confusion of the battle.

"Four... including Thor, War-Chief of Valhalla, hehe!" he said in a decent imitation of the bandit's deep voice. "He better not try and jack a plane tonight..." Zach added slyly. "I hear that's what downed pirate captains do."

"I was not shot down" Nathan said a touch defensively. "I've nursed down more planes in emergency landings than you've dusted fields. Some Burbank idiot who probably couldn't taxi straight with a ruler flew right into me." There was a pause as the Devastators came in and circled around the zep'pelin.

"Zach, this is the Pandora..." Nathan said with a hint of pride evident in his voice.

"Wow..." Zach breathed. "Pandora huh? I wonder what' s inside?"

"You have but to say the magic word."

Zach smiled, and offered the obvious. "Please? Open Sesame?" Nathan cleared his throat, as if about to utter some arcane spell, and said commandingly-

"Big John, we're comin' in."

Zach hadn't seen a carrier zep' in action before, and he watched with interest as the Pandora stirred to life and began to pick up speed surprisingly quickly. Nathan flew his Devastator about and opening his flaps approached the zep' slowly from the stern. A gap in the huge cigar shaped hull appeared, a split along the 'keel' towards the rear which widened as the sides moved outwards on hydraulic arms. In only seconds the two doors had created a large rectangular opening at least 45 feet across. Nathan moved under it with practised ease and proceded to fly his plane up into the belly of the Pandora. Zach dove down and craned his head upwards, watching as the pirate Devastator was caught in a mechanical grapple and rotated out of sight on some sort of ingenious storage apparatus. A new set of clamps hung ready to go.

"That's... wow," Zach said impressed.

Nathan's voice sounded pleased as he spoke over the radio again, sounding as if he were in a cavernous space by the muffled reverberation in the background. "Why don't you come aboard and have a look around? I'll talk you through it, you should manage fine." Zach was very interested in seeing the Pandora, but he bit his tongue and looked up at the zep' with narrowed eyes.

"This isn't a ploy to get your plane back, is it?" he asked slowly. Betty gave a short, good humoured laugh. "Hah, he's seen right through ya Boss! I guess he's not so dim for a country boy."

Nathan made a chiding noise, then declared "No Zach, the plane's yours now. I give you my word of honour. You're here as a guest, you can go when you like- IN the Devastator."

The word of a Pirate? Nathan sounded ernest when he spoke, and Zach realised he trusted the man- scoundrel or not. He let his plane drift backwards and began lining himself up with the ventral fin of the Pandora.

"Okay... Big John, I'm coming in."

**Chapter 4**

Fly the Crimson Skies.

For a first attempt, Zach's docking maneuver was very well done. A powerfully built African-American man chomped on a fat Cuban cigar as he deftly activated a series of levers from a work station overlooking the hangar bay. Louis Johnson was the crewman in charge of the rotary launcher, and he'd seen a lot of dubious dockings in his career on the Pandora, including a few near miracles. Zach's effort was a decent one, the young pilot quickly compensating for the different air pressure and wind speed inside the zep' with deft use of his craft's flaps. He nodded stoicly in approval as Zach's Devastator was caught securely in mid-air by the combination magnetic/hook/pincher device and carried on a hydraulic powered boom into the safety of the combat airship. With the sound of hissing gas and clanking metal the Devastator was pulled up beside a steel platform. Standing up in his cockpit, Zach gazed in awe at the massive hangar bay inside the Pandora. High catwalks, walkways, storage areas and platforms ringed the space, which had an efficient military feel to it but an atmosphere of controlled chaos. It was obvious this Pandora's box contained many secrets.

Nathan Zachary stood waiting as Zach clambered from his plane and on to the platform just below. He could see through the steel mesh at his feet down to the curved inner hull of the zep', and was fortunate he didn't suffer from vertigo. If anything, the airship seemed larger on the inside than she appeared externally, and he supposed the outside curve of the frame disguised its actual bulk when seen from further away.

"Welcome aboard, pilot."

Zach turned to Nathan and smiled nervously. The pirate's demeanor was calm and welcoming, and around them crewman in standard brown coveralls went to work to repair the damage the Pandora had taken in her skirmish against the Valhalla with similar disciplined purpose. They climbed access ladders and moved through crawl- spaces with practiced ease, and the faint sound of rivet guns and portable wielding torches could be heard all around them, just beneath the omnipresent hum of the engines. "How many crew do you have aboard?" Zach asked as a man ran past carrying a heavy bundle of steel cable over his shoulder. Nathan gestured for Zach to fall into step with him and answered as they walked up a broad set of stairs towards an enclosed room supported by steel frame and cable inside the zep'. Like a foreman's office in a factory it overlooked the hangar space, and had similar architecture to a naval vessel. Large observation windows gave anyone inside a broad view of the Pandora's rear section. A hatch on the wall facing the bow was stenciled 'ESCAPE CAPSULE', and the chamber itself was likely proofed against fire – the greatest danger a zeppelin faced.

"Including myself, twenty- five..." Nathan said wryly, noting Zach's surprise at the low figure. "About average for an M-Class zep, but they're some of the best men and woman in independent cargo re-allocation from across North America. It's like having a crew of forty, and only paying half of 'em."

Zach stifled a laugh. "Great, and they're captained by an accountant."

Nathan wore a serious expression as he explained. "I am a businessman, Zach. We need to make a profit to stay aloft, and my team gets paid better than their peers in the air- force or merchant aerials - plus a bonus twice yearly depending on how good business has been. You won't find more motivated individuals than on a pirate zep'!"

Zach stepped into the hangar's control room and took it in with a long glance. It was about as large as his small home in Apricot Hill. It housed a control console of riveted metal, levels and electrical switches and large map table covered with schematics and maps. Ladders disappeared through hatches in the floor and ceiling, and Zach noted the escape hatch. The invention of parachute equipped escape pods for zeppelins in the early 1930s had proven extremely popular with aircrews, and they were starting to be fitted as standard in most zeps' over P - class, military or civilian.

Standing at the crew station was a tall black man, his shaved head shining in the blue-white interior lights. Zach was astounded with by the man's heavy slabs of muscle, built with regular heavy labour and determined physical training. He half turned to acknowledge Nathan, removing his cigar to speak. The fragrant blue smoke scented the air and took the edge off the general smell of metal and grease.

"Welcome back, sir," he said in a deep, rich voice. "Betty's coming in now."

Nathan nodded and jerked a thumb at Zach. "This is Zachary Chance, the kind young man who gave me his Dust Devil last time we passed through. Zach; Louis Johnson, known around here as 'Chief'. He's hangar boss, roustabout and general go-to guy when we need to employ muscle during a stopover. I've never seen the Chief lose an arm wrestle…"

"Have you ever challenged him?" Zach asked curiously.

"No way," Nathan replied immediately, grinning. "That's why I'm unbeaten too."

"Hey Zach. Welcome to the Pandora," Louis grinned easily, his bass voice rumbling at a lower pitch than the engines.

"Hi, Chief…" Zach smiled, jogging over to offer a handshake. He flicked a nervous look at the man's cigar, and wondered how many flammable substances were nearby... Fuel barrels, hydrogen, explosive rockets, magnesium bullets… Louis noticed his concern and smiled, showing off teeth that seemed shockingly white next to his dark skin.

"Haha! Don't worry, Zach, I never smoke outside this room. And never during battle or if we're heavily damaged. Today was just light exercise for the Pandora, we're barely leakin'."

He turned his attention to the hangar as Betty's Devastator rose slowly through the bay doors, her flaps down and engine spluttering at minimal revs. Louis spun a steel wheel and switched several levers with precise timing, catching the plane in the rack and sending it towards one of the boarding platforms within moments. Reaching across to a large red- handled lever Louis slid it forwards and pressed down on a button illuminated in green. Massive hydraulic arms drew the hull doors closed and sealed out the sound of rushing wind. The entire zeppelin itself ceased vibrating quite so roughly as streamlining was restored. "Besides, Pandora flies on a clever Helium-Stratium mixture, Nathan explained to Zach. "It's inert." He moved to where an internal telephone system was set into the wall and spoke briefly into it. "Just maintain a healthy distance from the town, Big John. If they make radio contact, have Kipps tell 'em to relax, we're not gonna cause trouble."

Zach was gazing down into the hangar, where a trim female figure was walking briskly towards the ascending stairs. He saw that besides the three Devastators there was another plane on the rotary rack he recognised- his Dust Devil. It wasn't the plane he had owned, however. The yellow paint job had been replaced with a base coat of crimson red, black and white checks on the nose and stripes on the wings. The skull and crossbones adorned the tailfin, and the Fortune Hunters had installed the tools of their trade- machine guns – lots of them. Zach could see barrels protruding from the lower wings and a Gatling gun had been mounted on the upper aerofoil. The sheriff would certainly have stopped by for a chat if Zach had made the same additions. It looked like the storage rack had space for ten aeroplanes, and each could probably be used as a crane or grappling device for lifting cargo as well. Perhaps Nathan Zachary used his free plane berths for taking the spoils of piracy from defeated zep's.

Nathan told Louis Johnson to see that the Pandora was patched up before worrying about the fighters, and then smiled as Betty strode in. She wore riding style pants tucked into knee-high military boots, and a leather jacket which ended just below her mid-rift. A holstered pistol rested on one hip, and she had tucked a pair of thin gloves into the holster belt. Zach found she was easy on the eye with peroxide blond hair tied up out of her way and smooth tanned skin. Betty carried herself with confidence as she walked, although she seemed just a little too pretty to be a professional sky pirate. Zach wondered how many woman there were in such a vocation... and decided she must be something of an anomaly.

"What are they gonna say at Sea Haven when they hear we've changed sides?" she sighed to Louis, her Empire state accent jarring with her appearance a little to Zach's ears. Louis smirked and snubbed out his cigar, then stomped away to oversee the crew. Betty looked over Zach and narrowed her eyes appreciatively.

"Oh, hello. Not just sassy, huh?" Nathan raised one eyebrow and Zach pretended not to be embarrassed at the compliment.

"Zach; Betty Charles. We call her "Brooklyn" because she just can't drop the accent," Nathan smirked.

Zach offered her his hand, which she shook firmly. "Ya know what they say; you can take the girl outta Brooklyn, but…" Betty shrugged.

"Thanks for stepping in against those pirates," Zach offered politely. "Nathan only left me two hundred rounds in the guns, so there was no way I could have fought them off myself."

Nathan looked more than slightly impressed at his assumption he could have won if he'd had more ammunition. "You shot down four planes with only 200 rounds per gun? That's very accurate- even for a trained fighter pilot..."

Zach was pleased Nathan thought so, finding that he respected the skills and opinions of the Fortune Hunters, and that any compliment they offered was a worthy one.

"I've been shooting a bow and rifles since before I learned to fly- I guess that helped," he shrugged modestly.

Nathan motioned for Zach to follow as he began to head towards the bow of the Pandora, moving along a narrow passage between the outer and inner hull of the airship. "I'd better introduce you to Big John then. He's Navajo, so he'll appreciate that particular footnote." Moving along the Pandora Zach came to realise just how much of her size was empty space reserved for lighter than air gas, with compact utilised areas forming something of a warren through her. Individual gas bladders were numbered off, and near each was a new looking system of hoses, valves and emergency handles.

Seeing Zach's interest, Nathan explained. "A friend of ours is a real brainiac. He installed a stratium cataliser which can produce fresh gas from the powdered form. We can adjust the mix with those valves, and in an emergency we can rapidly reinflate the cells or compensate for a deflated one…"

"That's the second time you've mentioned 'stratium', but I've never heard of it before" Zach admitted. Nathan appeared extremely pleased with himself.

"I'm not surprised, it isn't in widespread use," he explained as they tramped down a cramped passage forming the airship's rigid keel. Everything was painted a slightly duller version of the Fortune Hunter's crimson, and electrical cables and hoses ran in bunches along the walls and ceiling, occasionally splitting off to different parts of the airship. "It's a synthetic gas that's essentially inert hydrogen, and it was developed by a network of mostly German scientists a few years ago. You can compress it and it has an odd reaction – it gets even lighter and more buoyant! Pandora can lift more and fly higher than a similar sized zep' because of it, but you need solid tanks for it if you want to use a hundred percent stratium, or it just escapes. We haven't converted to that yet, since currently there isn't enough stratium available to fill Pandora's space. In fact, the Doc reckons that Pandora has twenty percent of the world's supply of stratium already!"

Near the front they came to a hatch in the floor where a set of fairly steep stairs led down into the structure outside of the balloon. Although not by any means luxurious, the passages and rooms of the crew compartment had a definite feeling of stability and firmness lacking in the mesh catwalks of the rest of the zep'. Having never been on an airship before, Zach eagerly took it all in and expressed his amazement that so much could be held aloft yet feel as if it were on the ground. It was also the quietest part of the Pandora, being further from the engines and benefitting from sound and cold insulation. The walls were paneled with wood veneer and a tough-wearing carpet was laid in some of the rooms. "This is where most of the living takes place on Pandora," Nathan explained. "We've got a galley - not exactly five star, but you'd be surprised how well we do – the chef's a maestro. There's a small crew lounge, bathroom, bunk rooms, and right at the front..."

Nathan opened a fireproofed bulk head and stepped through. Zach followed and found himself on the Pandora's bridge, which seemed like a strange hybrid of the naval and aerial in design. Large, angled windows all around gave a spectacular view of the countryside around Apricot Hill, and six men worked at the various consoles and devices arranged for optimum efficiency. Standing at a wooden wheel very much like a ship's was a broad backed man with glossy black hair pulled back into a pony tail. Like many of the Fortune Hunters he wore a leather jacket, but his trousers were of buckskin and decorated with tassels down each seam. A bowie knife hung from a colourful, hand woven belt around his hips, and Zach guessed correctly he was 'Big John'.

Nathan clapped him lightly on the shoulder and turned him around. "Big John, this is Zach Chance... currently a crop duster in these parts. He's just shot down four of Thor's boys in _Gypsy_."

Big John had a stern, proud countenance befitting of his Native American blood, but as he smiled he seemed much less fierce. He shared a look with Nathan, and then extended one big hand to Zach who returned the firm pressure and held his gaze. "Greetings, Zach Chance. I was surprised when Nathan left _Gypsy Magic_ in your care, but it sounds like she was in good hands. What do you think of the Pandora? We don't get many tourists."

Zach looked around enthusiastically."Well, I don't know anything about zep', but she seems a fine airship. A lot bigger than I imagined, too. The crew look like they know what they're doing, and from the way you chased that raider zep' off, I'd say the Pandora must be good in a fight." Big John nodded appreciatively, but there was one thing he had noticed about Zach's expression. "But...?" he prompted, and Nathan looked keenly at their visitor.

"Well, I see you could carry more fighters than you do. Why only a couple of Devastators and a converted crop-duster when she must be designed for three times that. Don't you find yourselves outnumbered often?"

"Keeping the Pandora light means she is fast and maneuverable," Big John explained. "It's not only the weight of a squadron you'd have to haul, but its munitions and spares and fuel as well. Being able to retrieve-" Big John cut himself off and lent over to speak in Nathan's ear, and the pirate grinned.

"Yeah, he knows- you can tell it like it is."

"- Being able to retrieve as much cargo as possible makes us more profitable. We need to keep the Pandora's endurance high too, since we're on our own out there. So what we lack in fighters we make up for in fuel and loot." He shot a suffering look at Nathan. "Besides, the boss tends to lose our planes gambling, or trade them with supplies. We've had a couple of pilots move on and take their planes with them, too."

Nathan folded his arms and fixed his gaze on Zach. "We're not a frontline combat unit, Zach. We only use as much force as necessary to persuade transport captains to jettison their goods. And good men are worth much more than mere numbers, which is why we don't need a big crew, or lots of planes." He grinned roguishly, an expression which had lured in many beautiful women. "Besides, it takes guts to be a sky-pirate. We like the challenge of being hopelessly overwhelmed."

Betty leaned close and whispered in Zach's air, just as the Pandora's radio crackled to life. "What he doesn't tell you is that we retreat a lot too..." she said with a wink. "Discretion is the better part of valour in our profession."

A skinny man with unkempt hair and spectacles was speaking into a radio headset. "Sir," he reported to Nathan Zachary, "The local sheriff thanks us for our assistance and wants to know what our intentions are." Nathan put on a headset, acknowledging Big John as he mouthed what looked like "See Avon" to Zach.

"Sheriff, This is Nathan Zachary of the Fortune Hunters, calling from the Pandora. We intend to continue south shortly, and your town has nothing to fear from us. We're just visiting." He listened to Brody, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Yes, he's with us and no he's not a hostage" Nathan said somewhat wearily, looking at Zach. He removed the headset and offered it to the young bush pilot. "Your sheriff wants a word with you..."

Zach shrugged and slipped the radio link over his ear. "Erm, Hi Sheriff. Y'know, I can see my house from here..." Betty looked amused and glanced at her fellow crew, who seemed to be getting along with the kid. As they were passing by that morning Nathan had decided to fly ahead and see if he could spot his downed plane – he'd been thinking of the Gypsy Magic more and more in the weeks since he'd made the forced landing just outside Apricot Hill. An expensive, custom aircraft, it would have been tempting to recover- especially since it hadn't been that badly damaged. But he had seen the kid flying it, and been impressed with his ability. He seemed to have a natural aptitude and a daring streak which Nathan appreciated, and the fact he'd made four 'kills' in his first dogfight was an indication of his potential. Betty watched Nathan speaking in low tones with Big John and wondered if Nathan was actually thinking of recruiting him... He'd dropped hints after they'd set course this way.

Zach gazed towards the town, grinning as Brody's voice spoke in his ear. The sheriff was using a sort of forced whisper which was really rather funny. "Zach, What are you doing up there boy? Those brigands are shifty, it wouldn't be smart to go cavorting with 'em.."

Zach shrugged. "I'm just having a look at their zep', sheriff. And they pulled both our butts out of a tight spot. I reckon it might be fair to cut them some slack."

Sheriff Brody mumbled something vaguely affirmative. "I hope that transport convoy is reimbursing the town for it's efforts, sheriff?" Zach said in a tone that suggested that was well in order. After all, both Apricot Hill's patrol planes had been put out of action, and no doubt a lot of ammunition used.

"I understand that the Mayor will be negotiating that" Brody assured him.

"Any sign of Thor?"

"No, but we've picked up a few of the raiders who managed to bail out," the sheriff said. "Queer folk... " he muttered. "All got beards and funny clothes. Not sure what in heck I'm gonna do with 'em..."

Zach had read quite a few books, including some history, and he remembered a tradition that the Fortune Hunters would no doubt approve of. "You could ransom them back to their friends, sheriff" he suggested with a smile, lifting the earpiece slightly for the explosion of volume he expected. Brody did not disappoint.

"What kind of a fool notion is that?" he shouted incredulously. "Put them back to business? Damn pirate talk... Get yourself outta there before it's too late, Zach!"

"Well you wouldn't want them to come back and try and break their friends out" Zach rationalised. He turned to the pirates listening to half the conversation. "Would they do that?" he asked them.

Nathan nodded and moved a pace closer. "I know groups that would..." he assured Zach quietly.

Zach understood his meaning, and wondered if the pirate captain was portraying their coMisteradely, adventurous life so positively for his benefit. Could it be that the Pandora was looking for another outlaw?

"Sheriff" he said quickly, "I have to go now, but I think you should consider doing something for the Fortune Hunters. Let them pick up supplies if they need too, or turn a blind eye if they pass through. They helped us out as law-abiding folk do and might not be all that wanted in this state anyway."

"Do they have a gun to your head?" Brody said sounding worried, and Zach laughed as he replied no.

There was a pause. "All right... I'll pass that on. Brody out."

Zach remained on the Pandora and ate lunch with the pirates. As Nathan had said, the food was good and he enjoyed many of the things which were becoming less accessible to most people due to the economic downturn which was affecting the globe as a whole. The chef baked fresh bread daily for the zep''s crew, and there was plenty of butter, cheese, jam, sliced meats and spaghetti bolognase for the crew. Nathan's table offered rhubarb, pecan and apricot pies, and ginger beer or decent coffee to wash it down. Despite the fact many would call it ill- gotten gains- or even blood money, Zach ate heartily.

"You're not one of those pilots who can't eat after he's been flying, are ya hon?" Betty smiled as he finally put down his fork and picked up his refilled drop proof bake-lite cup. Zach grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "I was when I first started, but I grew out of it once I got used to it. It all depends on how level you've been flying, I guess."

The dining room was adorned with a few posters of zep's and planes, as well as many framed newspaper articles about the Fortune Hunters themselves. It was like a chronological scrap book of their finest (open to interpretation) achievements. Some would call it a wall of infamy. Zach moved down the wall, taking in the headlines.

"Pirate Zep' Keelhauls Hollywood Militia", "Daring Thieves Beat Army to Downed Zep'pelin", "Fortune Hunters Hit Bullion Train", "I Can't Keep Doing This- Army Airman Bails Out for Last Time" and "Pirates Stole My Pride" were some notable articles.

Zach browsed through the story beneath the latter headlines and began to chuckle to himself. One pilot had been shot down four times flying escort on the same route the Fortune Hunters had kept raiding. The man was now a nervous wreck, afraid of heights and began to sweat and shake at the thought of flying. "It's the taunting that really gets to you" the man was quoted as saying in the National Inquirer. "One of the pirates would say things like- 'Every pilot makes mistakes, but you've _abused_ the privilege,' or 'Get another plane- we'll do this again sometime'. It hurts. I think he knew it was me..."

Zach snorted out loud, knowing exactly who he must have been flying against. Although he pitied the man, and wished a safe landing for anyone who had to bail out, the wise cracks were really pretty funny. Nathan came to stand beside him, and he pointed to another quote in a different clipping. "I like this one," he said with a smirk. Zach read the indicated line and grinned appreciatively... 'Does your mommy have to land it for you?' it said in a story about an entire squadron being unable to prevent the theft of a prototype engine from a military airbase. Zach turned to Nathan, a serious question on his lips. "So, is this a form of psychological warfare?" he asked the older man, who seemed to consider the question carefully.

"That may be an unintentional side effect" he admitted. "Most people just call me a cocky braggart of course, but Zach, if you'd been up there I think you'd agree most of it was well deserved. There are people who shouldn't be allowed to fly a paper dart, let alone an airplane."

Zach nodded, having witnessed some quite witless flying before. "Have you used that one?"

Nathan shrugged and turned back to the wall with a smile. "It's not up here, but I reckon I might've..."

Zach sighed and looked around at the dining room which was slowly clearing as the Pandora's crew went back to their shifts. He'd spent a few hours on the pirate zep' now, and enjoyed the experience, but it was probably time to go. "Well, thanks for everything, Nathan, but I better not out- stay my welcome. There's probably going to be lots of work to do at the airstrip."

The charming rogue looked at him in mock astonishment. "You mean you want to go back to being a small town mechanic after tasting the high life?" he said with perhaps less sarcasm than he might have.

"Well, it pays the rent and lets me be around planes all day," Zach sighed. He moved over to shake hands with Betty who was leaning back stretched out in her chair. Big John, Briggs the weapons master and Louis Johnson had already returned to their posts. "Goodbye Miss Brooklyn" he said with manners she wasn't used to hearing on the zep', "Good luck, and watch your six." Zach paused, a faint smile evident in his eyes. "It's worth watching" he added impishly, and Nathan nodded approvingly, laughing softly.

Betty narrowed her eyes but seemed pleased with the compliment and she squeezed the hand he offered.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow" Nathan said in a lilting voice. "But it doesn't have to be this way".

"Huh?" Zach said, only half hearing him. The sky pirate went to look out of a portal, gazing down on picturesque vista. "This is a nice view" Nathan said, "but there is a lot more out there to see."

Zach nodded in agreement. He'd pretty much explored every inch of Apricot Hill from the air now.

"And a zep' makes a fine way to get there. Have you thought about that?"

Zach glanced sideways at Betty, and said dumbly "Er, no. Not really..."

Nathan frowned and pointed at the wall of newspaper headlines. "Ever been in the paper, Zach?" he asked in a tone which might have been used in a police interrogation cell.

"Well, in the local paper once or twice..." Zach mumbled. "I dropped a load of cattle manure on the new car of a guy who wouldn't pay what he owed once..." Nathan had expected the answer to be no, and he stopped in surprise and interest. "Oh? Well think bigger!" he snapped, prodding a headline from the New York Times.

"I didn't do it for the publicity..." Zach said wryly, but Nathan was in full flight.

"Take to the skies of the whole world!" he said grandiosely, then he shrugged and added "Well, America anyway. There's a fortune to be had out there!" he said watching Zach closely for his reaction. It was mostly blank as he digested Nathan's words. "Justice! Lovers!" the pirate almost shouted.

"Isn't that your motto?" Zach said frowning. "Isn't death one of those fortune cards?" he said as he moved in to look closer at Nathan's jacket.

Nathan waved dismissively. "To us? Hardly ever! Anyway, none of us can escape death eventually, and you feel more alive when danger is a part of your daily schedule" he grinned rakishly. "You can die anytime, doing anything. Wouldn't you rather it was IN your plane, not under someone else's when the wheel strut breaks and it collapses on you? Or choking on a peanut watching county a baseball game?"

"Are you saying you want me… To be a Fortune Hunter?" Zach asked slowly, just to clarify what he thought he was hearing, what he had suspected since arriving on the Pandora.

"Betty's an all right pilot, but she needs someone to watch her back while she watches mine..." Nathan explained somewhat more calmly. Betty looked almost offended, but held her tongue for the sake of Nathan's pitch.

"I've got no combat experience," Zach reminded the pirate leader, "And you said the Pandora only has room for the best men and women in their fields."

"That's true" Nathan affirmed, coming over to wag a finger at Zach's chest. "But everyone starts out a rookie, and you shot down four planes today first try - and that's not just luck. I know veteran pilots who went through the entire Great War and only chalked up that many. Zach, I believe you've got the makings of a great pirate- PILOT!" Nathan corrected, but it was too late. Betty rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, and Nathan bit his lip, frowning and swearing to himself that he used to have the gift of the gab.

"I'm flattered..." Zach said honestly, "And I admit it's tempting, but you're asking me to become a criminal on... on a whim. The consequences aren't slap on the wrist offenses either, like being caught with whiskey on your breath or trying to use a stamp twice. You people shoot at government officials - accurately."

Nathan nodded sobrely, and even Betty stared into her half empty coffee mug.

"All true, Zach. But we offer you the chance to find out who you really are, and do what you love doing the most" Nathan said in an almost fatherly tone. "You could have joined a legitimate air force, but you haven't" he said in a reasonably. "And it seems to me there are no just wars any more, just power-grabs and border skirmishes and worse criminals than us throwing their weight around. We only rob those who can afford to lose what we take," he promised. "And often we sell what we get to those that really need it. I like to think we do some good up there… If you come with us then we'll teach you things you can't learn anywhere else. Odds don't beat us, Zach, because we're a team. We watch each other's backs, and we don't offer our trust lightly. But I'm offering it to you Zach... come with us. I want you to be a Fortune Hunter."

There was silence except for the muted sound of the Pandora's engines. Zach felt light- headed as he stood very still, his eyes glazed. Finally, he gave a crooked smile.

"That's what I've wanted since I saw the Pandora open her hangar doors," he said with a deep sigh. "Dammit, I must be a born miscreant."

"So, you're willing to give our noble vocation a try?" Nathan pressed, a broad smile beginning to stretch across his features.

Zach's face lit up suddenly, and he gave his most piratical affirmation, squinting one eye closed and sounding like a stage version of Captain Blackbeard.

"Aaaarrrrgh! Yep, I'll be a pirate with you. No, wait..." he said grinning impishly. "Make that a Skywayman!"

"Oh, brother" Betty groaned. "You two are a double act, ain't ya?"

By the next evening the Pandora was cruising south-west, assisted by a tail wind that Big John knew to catch. Zach watched through one of the Pandora's armoured glass windows as the terrain quickly changed, becoming rocky and red. They navigated a course which steered clear of most legitimate air traffic, and any strays gave them a wide berth. After agreeing to throw in his lot with the Fortune Hunters Zach had flown his Devastator back to town to settle his affairs. Betty had joked that Nathan had gotten his plane back after all, only with baggage, but she seemed genuinely pleased to have him as a crew member. In Apricot Hill Zach had found himself to be something of a hero amongst the townsfolk. One of the transport zeppelin gunners had told of his dive from above, guns blazing to drive off the Viking gang planes, and Deputy Stanley was certain he was only amongst the living due to Zach's intervention. The deputy had picked up a nickname since his arrival by parachute in a farmer's backyard- "Smokin' Joe Stanley". His plane had been so enveloped in flame when he'd bailed out the deputy had come down to earth with his uniform charred and wisps of smoke rising from his leather boots.

It was all Zach could do to avoid being swept up in the celebrations as he raced around trying to tidy up his (mostly) law- abiding life. He saw Ted West to explain he was taken a sudden trip, resign, and pack up his clothes. Then he had to find his friends and say his good byes. They questioned the sudden decision and he could only tell them he'd write when he knew more, but for now he had a chance to work in his area of expertise travelling the country in a zep'. He allowed them to think it was with a transport airship, since he hoped to protect his reputation as long as he possibly could, but they swapped suspicious and knowing looks between each other as they waved him off.

Finally he rode his motorbike out to his parent's farm and told them he was going to travel, and get a perspective of the wider world. Naturally his mother wanted details, but his father understood his desire to experience something new after the day's dog-fight, and helped deflect her questions. She was finally mollified when Zach promised to write and send postcards from the places he visited. For a long time after his mother would refer to him as 'My travelling Zach," and proudly dig out his mail to show friends and visitors. He wondered if there would ever be newspaper headlines he could send- they would make for a much different scrapbook.

With a fraction of his belongings aboard his plane and the rest in his old room at his parents, Zach waited at the airstrip until the transport convoy moved on, then took off with them to foster the illusion he could be taking their course. Zach waited until the town had disappeared from view and changed course to chase after the Pandora- his new home. The Fortune Hunters had moved on the evening of the battle, more or less to the relief of the town but with the honest thanks of the sheriff for their help. Watch their manners in his county, he said, and they were welcome to pass through again. Meeting up twenty minutes flight away Zach said the magic words for the second time, and the answer stirred strange feelings in his heart.

"Roger-that, Zach. Welcome home."

**Chapter 5**

Sea Haven.

Nathan had said they were heading for what could be considered the Pandora's home base, a 'shadowport' known as Sea Haven. It was off the Mexican coast on a sleeping volcanic island called Socorro, but even that name only appeared on older, official charts. There; smugglers, traders, sky pirates and fugitives would often stop by to do business away from prying eyes. Not all could be trusted, and occasionally some faction would try to extend its influence there forcefully, but otherwise Sea Haven was a refuge from the agencies who sought to keep the skies a safe and lawful place. The Hollywood Militia was the most constant threat, since they were often the target of Sea Haven's denizens. One of the few things that could really pull the various outlaws together was an attack by the 'Tinsel-town Glamour-boys.'

Nathan told Zach that he would be going through a training program once they reached Sea Haven, something akin to a 'boot camp.' Mostly Zach was valuable to the sky pirates because of his flying talent, but there were other skills he was going to need. As well as helping him gain experience in combat tactics and maneuvers, Nathan intended him to learn anti-aircraft gunnery, damage control procedures for the Pandora and the other useful things a successful pirate should know. Zach was going to be taught about the Sky Piracy Legal Code, the transport companies, the various militia's and air forces and of course their rivals in crime, the other pirate gangs and mercenary units. It was a whole new world to which Zach was a stranger, and the sooner he was up to speed the longer he would survive in it. During the journey which was to take the better part of four days, Zach worked with Louis Johnson in the hangar, aiding him with minor mechanical tasks in order for the chief to judge his capabilities. After a five hour stint he said was satisfied with Zach's understanding and proficiency in maintenance and repair. "That's good, Mister Chance. Now I know I can rely on you to lend a hand if things get tight- and they do. Not many pilots can find their way around their machine's insides, either."

Zach pointed at the Dust Devil which now wore Fortune Hunter Livery. "I customised her," he said happily as he wiped his hands free of grease. "But it looks like you've gone even further. What's new?"

L.J. activated the aircraft storage device, bringing the biplane around for inspection. "Well for starters she's got some teeth. I put in four .303 machine guns, two in each wing. I installed a custom selector gear so they can fire alternately or all together. There's less chance of stalling the plane that way but you can keep the trigger down. A friend of ours built a gadget which lets us hook guns together and set them to fire in predetermined patterns..." Zach seemed impressed by that, and Louis nodded earnestly. "It's called the Interrupter Weapon Sequencer, or IWS. The Doc' is one clever cookie, you might meet him at Sea Haven. He runs a repair and modification business."

"I hope I do- I have a lot to learn" Zach said. "What about the big gun?" he asked pointing to the weapon mounted on the Dust Devil's upper wing.

"Four barrel gatling gun, 12.7 millimeter machine gun cartridge type," Louis said with a glint in his eyes. Once you line 'em up with the machine guns you let 'em have it with this. It'll put eighty rounds into a target with one squeeze- that's about 3 kilos of lead moving at 1200 miles per hour. A recipe for a bad day for whoever you're aimin' at."

Zach flinched at the thought of being hit by such a volley. "That'd put an airplane out of commission real fast," Zach said thinking for a moment with his eyes closed, and Louis simply nodded once.

"Uh-huh, it's about as heavy as you can go on a plane like that. A Double-Dee has a low stall speed, but even so – dis gun'll slow you down if ya fire it too free," he said with a serious nod. He walked to the nose of the plane and lifted an engine cowling. "Up front I raised the compression ratio and upgraded the air and oil coolers and fitted a bigger filter, and I've fitted a three blade composite middle pitch propellor to let her run faster, nice and smooth. And of course she has the standard treatment – polished cylinder ports, gold-plated plugs, new steel cable for the rigging and all that."

"I wonder if Nathan would let me have a ride sometime," Zach wondered aloud, and Louis closed up the Dust Devil and began moving back to his duties.

"I should think so. He'll want you to put in as much flight time in the Devastator as you can once we reach Sea Haven, though. I think you'll find it an interesting place to visit..."

"-But I wouldn't want to live there?" Zach guessed with a smile, and Louis guffawed.

"We'll see, Mister Chance. Just maybe you'll take to this business like a duck to water."

It was dawn on Zach's fourth day as a sky pirate when he was awoken by a loud rapping on his door. He had been given a bed and small room of his own, which was a privilege that other longer serving crew members didn't receive. Apparently privacy was one of the benefits of being a flier, so although it was quite small and unfurnished Zach was grateful none the less. He only hoped it wouldn't be a point of friction amongst the more experienced of Pandora's crew. "... We're almost at Sea Haven" a voice told him, and Zach recognised Nathan slowly through his sleep addled senses.

"Oh, right" he yawned, trying to recall if the pirate captain had said anything before that.

"Get a cup of coffee from the mess and come to the bridge, I want you to see this."

That sounded close to an order to Zach, who snapped upright and kicked his feet off the bed. "Yes sir, right away!" he replied loudly, fighting to keep his speech from slurring with sleep. Beyond the door Nathan grinned to himself as he moved on, remembering his time in the army air corp and sounding just like that himself when he was a young recruit. And despite the fact the Pandora was a pirate zep', she ran with something very much like military discipline. It was necessary to be successful, and it would help get Zach Chance up to speed as quickly as possible.

Five minutes later Zach had pulled on his cargo pants and olive skivvy and headed to the Pandora's crew mess. There was a table which always had hot water for making tea and coffee, since there was always a number of crewmen awake at any time, and Zach fixed himself a mug of sweet tea before continuing onto the bridge. "Good morning, everyone" he said politely as he edged through the bulkhead. Already there were a number of people at their stations, including Big John and Nathan who had a pair of binoculars in his hands as he scanned ahead. Zach's greeting was returned in a general murmur, and Big John indicated for him to look towards the horizon. Silently Zach moved closer and focussed into the distance, and it only took him a few moments to see the outline of a steep sided island on the horizon. It seemed a strange and unusual thing- so lonely on the sea, and Zach still found the ocean an amazing sight. He had never seen it before he had boarded the Pandora, and it made him nervous to think about being trapped above it with nowhere to land. Squinting his eyes he could make out several small dots around the island's grey form, and at this distance they would have to be airships.

"Would those zep's be in our... profession?" he ventured, and Nathan lowered his binoculars and turned to him. "You can see them?" he asked with interest and a trace of disbelief. "How many are there?" Zach looked carefully and counted them off. "Well I can see three obvious dots and maybe one fainter one further back, but I'm not sure about that. There is only one on the right hand side of the island."

Nathan said nothing as he passed the binoculars to Big John who moved closer to the windows and gazed ahead. After a moment he snorted, and shook his head. "Hmm. If you were born a Navajo we would have called you Hawkeye" he grinned.

"That's amazing, kid" Nathan agreed with a lop-sided smile. "I've never met anyone who could pick that out from this distance - even with good light. You've definitely got good peepers for a pilot. Bad news is it means you'll be pulling spotter duty on Turret one or four from now on."

Zach knew that the Pandora always had someone posted in the upper forward turret as an observer, and lots of people thought it was a boring duty. He didn't mind spending time with only himself for company though, and he tilted his head affirmatively. "Right."

Nathan answered his question then, telling Zach that they could be pirates but were probably smugglers, and they would on parked on the side out of the prevailing wind. Sea Haven was a depot for all sorts of cargoes, including weapons. Arms were perhaps the most important shipments, since the shadowport needed them to ensure its independence. "Is any one person in charge?" Zach asked, and Nathan gestured in a 'kind of' way.

"No, it's a free- for- all sort of place, with peace maintained by the fact that everyone there has an armed plane or airship." Nathan answered. "So we all keep the peace, in a way. That said Sea Haven does have a 'caretaker' in Pat McDonnell. He owns half the infrastructure and charges fees for their use, and he makes it his business to keep things running smoothly."

The somewhat dorky looking radio operator looked up from his console. His name was Francis Kippelmore, and he was the least likely pirate Zach had seen yet. He was lanky, and wore a pair of round spectacles, and his hair was always a foppish mess. But he was also intelligent and well educated, spoke a number of languages and played several classical instruments with more soul than one would expect. "Miss Brooklyn is ready to scramble, sir" he said, and his accent conveyed his education- he had been to Yale.

"Alright Kipps, I'm on my way" Nathan answered, and Zach looked surprised. He gulped down his tea and hooked the Bakelite mug on a peg by the door before jogging quickly after the pirate captain.

"Nathan-sir, what's going on? Do you need me?"

Nathan spoke over his shoulder as they moved briskly down the port access tunnel towards the hangar bay. "We always get our planes in the air when we approach Sea Haven just to be on our toes. You never know what the situation could be since your last visit, and even the Pandora might look like a tempting target to someone. One plane in the air is worth ten in the hangar."

"Oh, right. Do you think that's likely? I can follow your lead if I need to..."

"S' Okay, Zach. It's routine-" Nathan flashed him a smile and added "Besides, I don't want to reveal my secret weapon too soon!" They entered the hangar which was awash with noise to see Betty's Devastator in position over the bay doors, its engine already idling. Nathan waved to Louis to get her airborne, then turned to Zach before running to his plane which hung ready to be boarded. "I want you to get more experience under your belt before you go active, ok?"

"Yes, boss" Zach said, giving a mock salute and heading for the control center for a better view of the launches. It was an impressive sight to see a plane dive from the hangar and swoop out of sight. Zach watched both Fortune Hunter pilots get airborne, then headed back to the bridge to watch as Sea Haven came steadily closer.

Cruising at an admirable 60mph, the Pandora was soon approaching the disturbed air around Sea Haven. The island was surprisingly sheer, a dull green cone with occasional spurs of bare rock protruding from the bushy foliage, and surrounded by a number of large rocks. The waves broke apon them so that a ring of white froth separated it from the blue-green sea, and Zach could see it was certainly not deserted. Airships of many sizes hovered majestically around the island, and aeroplanes nipped between them like gulls circling a fishing boat. Zach saw that Sea Haven was not always welcoming to visitors, for the giant twisted and rusting frames of airships lay sagging upon the rocks. They looked as if they had died violent deaths of fire and impact, yet were also somehow a natural part of the landscape. Big John began manipulating the Pandora's engine controls and ballast tanks as he brought the pirate zep' in slowly and started to manouevre her around the steep sides of the mountain. Zach sighed in awe as he saw that there were gaps in the island's slopes, and that they provided entry to an enormous hollow space beyond.

The center of the island was a calm turquoise lagoon, but it certainly wasn't empty. Massive towers of girders and corroded steel rose upwards, supporting landing pads and buildings with a vaguely industrial look. Zach could see anti aircraft turrets and compact landing strips built into the sides of the sheer crater, and was surprised by the numbers of people and aircraft around. Many of them had personalised paint schemes or were entirely black, whilst others looked ready for some restorative work. Big John slowed the Pandora and angled towards one of the tall structures that looked to have been adapted for docking airships.

"Wake up McDonnell and tell him we've got cargo to unload" he told Francis Kippelmore, who relayed the message with the relaxed ease of someone who has been through the routine countless times.

"Roger that, Pandora" replied a grizzled voice with a smokey Irish accent. "M' cooked breakfast will have ta wait. I'll have a favour to ask of ya later,too."

Nathan's voice cut in and his plane swooped past the docking tower. "We don't make a habit of doing favours, Mac, you know that" he said breezily. "But we're happy to do business."

McDonnell laughed drily. "Just what I meant, Zachary. Welcome back, you always brighten the place up."

Thirty minutes later the Pandora was docked and unloading her spoils from the crimson skies. Most of the cargo was luxuries or basic supplies which could be swiftly sold on the black or open markets, and McDonnell was a ready customer willing to pay a reasonable set price. When it came time for money to change hands he made told Nathan what was on his mind.

"It's the Ragin' Cajuns, Zachery. They're trying to corner the fuel market here. They've been hitting the usual independent shipments and are stockpiling it ready to get a choke hold on the market. I think we'd both agree that it would be bad for everyone if they were able to do that. They could raise the prices and most people couldn't carry enough fuel not to have to buy it sooner or later. We need someone to give 'em a smack on the wrist, and I think the Fortune Hunters are the ones to do it."

Nathan had taken Zach with him to meet Pat McDonnell, and he leaned against the wall of the man's office overlooking Sea Haven's crater quietly observing how things worked around here. Both parties seemed relaxed, with Nathan resting his feet on the entrepeneur's desk and the other man sipping coffee. Zach noted the New York Yankees paraphilnalia on the walls and shelves, and the faded cap which was tossed near Nathan's feet. It looked like 'Mac' was a very big fan or had once been a player.

Nathan knew there were at least three places you could buy aviation fuel or diesel in Sea Haven, and that Mac ran one of them. "It's certainly in your interest if we knock them out of their filling station fantasy..." he said quietly. But Doc, a good friend of Nathans who ran a repair bay, also sold fuel. "But it's in ours as well" he finished. Usually he might have tried to negotiate a deal where each fuel vendor chipped in a reward, but since Doc was one of them he decided to bargain easy. "We'll take on the Ragin' Cajuns, but we'll need to be reimbursed for our expenses."

Mac seemed pleased and pulled an envelope from a desk draw. It was about an inch thick. "How 'bout I gas up your planes, that big zep' of yours and throw in five hundred dollars for each pilot you can send out. I reckon you could settle this in one strike, at least for the time being."

Zach glanced back at the envelope, his eyes bulging at the fact it contained more than his old annual wage- probably in used twenty dollar bills.

Nathan put down his feet and leant forward. "That better be true, Mac, 'cos we'll be doing it cheap for five hundred a plane. I've got three pilots, but the way…"

Mac frowned a moment and pulled open a desk drive, retrieving a second envelope of cash. "You and Betty not enough these days, huh?" he quipped, grinning at Zach.

Nathan reached out for the money with his left hand and shook on the deal with the other. "I wonder if I should give you this after its done?" Mac said airily, pulling the envelopes out of Nathan's reach briefly. Nathan cleared his throat and Mac tossed him the cash with a grin.

"We get on to it as soon as the Pandora's gassed" the pirate said as he turned and swaggered for the door. Mac nodded and looked at Zach with a cheerful smile. "Should've been more careful who ya fell in with buddy" he quipped. Zach smiled and opened the door for Nathan.

"I'm sure he'll live to regret it!" he said as a dig to the older pirate.

Nathan pulled Zach after him and waved goodbye to Mac. "Yeah yeah, I'm working on him" he said to Mac's amusement. "C'mon rookie, I gotta go fry me some southern chicken."

Nathan told Zach about the Ragin' Cajuns as they returned to the Pandora. They were a gang of good ole southern boys, some of them straight from the hills or biyous of Louisiana. Their leader was a man called Thibodeaux, and if Zach thought Nathan had a habit of stealing aeroplanes then Thibodeaux was an unrepentent kleptomaniac. Zach tugged on Nathan's sleeve as they headed for the Pandora's bridge, testing the waters again. "There's almost certainly going to be bullets flying soon, isn't there?" he said. Nathan gave him a charming grin and folded his arms across his chest. "I'd say the odds were better than that, kid. Go on..."

Zach flashed him a questioning look.

"Ask me if you can fly" Nathan said evenly.

"How'd you know I was thinking that?" Zach asked, but knew he hadn't kept a poker face on.

"I'd be disappointed if you weren't gonna at least ask" Nathan said , cocking his head to one side. Big John moved past and Nathan told him to get Betty and head for the Bridge.

"Well, you've charged Mac for me, already" Zach said. "I know I haven't had my training yet, but maybe being thrown in the deep end is the best way for me to learn?"

Nathan laughed and shook his head. "It might also be the best way for you to drown" he reasoned. "And the Cajuns are numerous- they could easily swarm us."

Zach frowned and bit his lip as he tried to put his feelings into words. "All the more reason to have three Devastators in the sky, boss. I just think I'll feel nervous and powerless if I'm stuck on the Pandora during a fight. I'd feel more at ease in a plane, and I can help earn that money you've wrangled. I mean, Mac expects three planes, sir."

Nathan grinned and motioned for Zach to walk with him forward. "You can ease up on the 'sirs'" he smiled, "and I know how you feel- any decent pilot would be the same way. But we should be able to handle the Cajuns with just me and Betty out there. It's good business to charge for an extra plane."

Zach was silent as they moved through into the Pandora's Bridge and Nathan discussed the mission with his senior crew. Betty seemed to think that discouraging the Ragin' Cajuns was a good idea. "Boss, while we were out there I think I noticed some of their fuel dumps. Maybe I should head back out and scout around, get an idea of what our targets are."

Nathan nodded and indicated a point on a map of Sea Haven. "I agree, just be discrete and try not to tip them off. This inlet used to be their base here at Sea Haven, and you'll need to check that out too. Mac mentioned that they've acquired a few more planes than when we were here last and one of those quirky flat-top carrier zep's. I didn't spot it though. I'll go check up with Doc and see if he knows anything, and maybe ask a few general questions at the cantina. Let's be back here by 11:30."

Betty pulled her gloves from her belt and went to leave, then she noticed Zach's quiet look of disappointment and gave him a kind smile. "So, what about junior?" she asked Nathan, who replied evenly, "We decided it would be best if just you and I handled this one." Betty rolled her eyes.

"That would be the royal we, naturally" she said giving Zach a dig in the ribs and making him laugh. "We'll I don't see why he can't have a fly between now and then, get a feel for the place" she said, brightening Zach's expression considerably. Nathan obviously wasn't entirely convinced, but he wanted to ease the kid's disappointment somewhat. "Alright. Ok, then" he said looking to see if Big John agreed, and the Navajo shrugged. "But he takes the Dust-Devil- that way at least no one will be quite sure we've got three Devastators to play with."

"Excellent! Thanks Nathan!" Zach said and quickly started heading for the hangar.

"Keep your nose clean!" Nathan ordered, "and come straight back to the Pandora at the first sign of any trouble."

Zach thanked Betty several times for her help on the way to the hangar until she told him with a laugh, "That's okay, Zach, I just didn't want you to explode with excitement and take the Pandora out from the inside! Now, do as Nathan says and don't stray too far. Sea Haven's got some neat sights, but keep one eye peeled at all times. You're a Fortune Hunter, and funnily enough not _everybody_ likes us."

**Chapter 6**

Action.

Zach's first launch had him tingling with excitement as he sat in the cockpit of the Dust Devil and ran through Betty's instructions in his mind. Flaps on- Check. Engine at one half power- Check. Elevators angled down-Check. Above him a small amber light built into the grapple machinery began to blink. "Standby to go, four" Louis said across the radio, and Zach could see him through the tinted glass of the control room. Four was the launcher rig the Dust Devil was in, and and Zach swallowed before responding the way he'd heard the other pilots before him.

"Roger that, Chief. Four on stand-by." His hands were sweating inside his gloves now, and Zach realised he hadn't felt quite this nervous about a take- off since he was 14. His plane shuddered and began to drop slowly towards the open hangar doors as the grapple was lowered with a hum of hydraulics. Below there was sparkling ocean, only 1500 feet down. Big John had turned the Pandora into the wind, and Zach knew that in theory this was easier than docking, and he had managed that fine first time.

"Go in three-two-one-mark" Louis said in his ear, and above Zach a green light flicked on. The Dust Devil began to drop, and from his position in the cockpit right at the end of the plane Zach saw the nose drop dip and the ocean fill his view. There was a familiar free fall sensation as Zach opened the throttle and gently pulled back on the stick. He felt a rush of speed and flicked a glance at the chrome bordered airspeed meter he'd installed six months ago. It was super accurate, and would only rise and fall smoothly, not bounce and jiggle with every bump the plane took. It read ninety miles per hour, well above the biplanes stall speed, so Zach closed the flaps and pulled back harder on the stick. The Dust Devil flew in a long, graceful arc until it levelled out 150 feet above the evenly rolling water. Zach took in the scene for a few moments before beginning a smooth turn back towards Sea Haven. "This is Chance" he said feeling elated at being able to explore the unique island ahead. "I'm underway." He wondered if he needed a callsign, although he didn't think the Fortune Hunters used them.

"Roger, Hawkeye" said the voice of Big John, and Zach had to smile to himself. "Take it easy."

Sea Haven would have been an interesting place even without the pirate activity. Zach began by flying along the nearest shoreline, heading for where the broken frames of two zep's lay. They were just like the hulks of old shipwrecks, but they had become part of the island and looked just as if they belonged there. Looping back Zach watched a slow moving transport zep' head for the center of the island, and decided to check it out himself. He went in low, between a passage of rock which had been formed when heavy rain and seas had caused tons of loose volcanic effluvium to fall away. It was definitely like the hidden pirate coves or secret ports he'd read about in adventure stories as a boy. Yet there was a definite modern touch in the cranes and neon signs which proclaimed businesses with iconic symbols. A fifteen foot green cocktail glass identified a club, flashing red dice some sort of gambling den and an enormous wrench head was probably a repair bay. There were numerous jettys and moors for the small to mid-sized boats which Sea Haven could accommodate, and several compact runways for planes were built at various heights. One even had a ski-jump end to assist take offs, but at least with all of them you would have some free fall time to get right up to speed. The hollow island of Socorro concealed a thriving community, although Zach supposed it's transient population far outnumbered any permanent residents.

The many nooks and crannies of Sea Haven gave Zach much to see and explore, and he couldn't help 'buzzing' a number of the attractions. He had soon found several exciting stunts he could pull using the terrain- both natural and man- made, but he had told his new coMisterades he'd keep a low profile and he resisted the temptation to fly more daringly. He saw that of the structures in Sea Haven's lagoon, most looked like they had been part of some sort of rig, but he didn't think oil would be found in a sleeping volcano. Apparentl the turquiose water below was very warm, and was like swimming in an enormous bath. If it wasn't a pirate base, and the world economy was stronger then it could probably make a fine luxury resort- like Hawaii. Zach wondered if the Mexican government knew what went on here- if they did they were probably in favour of it, at least in private he thought.

Movement below caught his full attention, and Zach noticed a cutter sized motor boat accellerate quickly away from a jetty, white wash churning behind it. A figure was working at a canvas covered pile on the rear deck, trying to untie the ropes around it. The radio came to life on the short range wide band channel which was used for general communication at Sea Haven. "Attention anyone in the air or at sea. There is a Hollywood spy boat leaving the harbour, a navy blue cutter. I repeat- a Hollywood spy boat is fleeing Sea Haven- can anyone intercept?"

Zach tilted his wings to keep the cutter in sight as it turned in under the raised platform in the center of the harbour. When it emerged again the tarpaulin had been pulled away to reveal a quad-machine gun glinting in the sunlight which was only just beginning to peep over the rim of the island's crater. "Big John! Did you hear that?" Zach said flicking over to the Fortune Hunter's 'private' frequency for the day. Kippelmore and Louis would make sure all the planes had their radios adjusted whenever they decided it was time, and apparently they had some method or pattern which determined just what the frequency would be even if they didn't speak to each other.

"I did, Zach. Remember what Nathan told you..." The Pandora's helmsman said in a steady voice. Nathan watched as the cutter's guns opened up on a plane which strayed too close- probably unintentionally. "I can see it, and I think I can help" Zach replied evenly, inverting his plane to allow him to watch the water as he gained some height. "We don't want holes in the plane or you," Big John said patiently. "Do you really think you can slow them down without taking damage?"

Zach could see the boat heading through one of the passages to the open sea. "They won't know what what hit them- I'm a long way up" he said, feeling his head going red with blood.

Suddenly Betty's voice cut in, speaking softly as though she were sneaking about somewhere. "He's gotta stand on his feet sometime, Big John" she said. "And at least he asked first. I can't do it, and the boss is working Orico's..."

"Okay, distract him for a minute. I'm on my way" Big John said after a moment. Zach clenched his fist in celebration and checked the cutter's position again. This was an opportunity to show his coMisterades he could be an asset to them, and he didn't have to rob anyone! He could see the Pandora off his port wing, and guessed he would only get two passes at the most before the zep' moved in, although it looked like the cutter might outrun them. "Tally ho!" Zach said with a reasonable english accent, and he peeled off into a steep dive towards the Hollywood infiltrator. With a flick of his thumb he armed the Dust Devil's guns.

It was a power dive more than a strafing run, and his plane began to vibrate around him. It was somewhat satisfying to see the upgraded dials he had installed return readings he had used to see practising his stunts back home. The cutter cleared a triangular shaped rock and seemed to gain even more speed. Two planes had made attempts at holing the hull but the quad guns were proving more than a distraction. One of them rolled away as stressed aluminium was torn of its wings, flying low in an effort to escape the gunner's attention. Miniature geysers of white water blew upwards as the other plane drove in from the seaward side guns blazing. It was a converted sport plane, painted white and yellow and with a bold round symbol on its tail. The AA guns tracked it as it swooped past, a hail of tracer fire eagerly stretching out to caress it. The plane shuddered and belched smoke as it caught some of the barrage.

Zach's Dust Devil began to whine as he dove in, lining up his sights on the cutter's gun and stern where he could see the engine would be located. Deciding that gravity help keep his rounds on target he squeezed the machine gun trigger and thumbed the gatling all together. Bullet cases streamed behind him as the converted stunt plane spat lead, shuddering under the recoil and steadily losing airspeed. Zach lowered the flaps and eased off the trigger as below him he saw the wooden deck of the cutter shredded with bullets, and sparks fly from the armoured deflection plates of the quad gun. But from this angle they were much less effective, with many of the rounds sneaking past. The 12.7mm gatling bit through the high pressure pipes and belt feeds as the panicking gunner threw himself to the deck.

Zach tapped the trigger once more before pulling back steeply on the stick, and was rewarded with a sudden puff of oily black smoke from the stern of the boat. He raced past the cutter, levelling out thirty feet above the water and rolling once in exuberance. Noticing the spy boat slowing and sensing that it was damaged Zach Pulled his Dust Devil through the tightest Immelmannn he could and bore down with only a second in which to fire. The gatling and machine guns hummed in a stuccato symphony, raking the length of the boat with fire. The bow hurled splinters skyward, the glass of the cabin shattered and then BOOM! The boat's fuel exploded in a greasy orange fireball which Zach flashed through, and flames began to lick over the ravaged hull. Zach had to work hard to avert a stall from using all his firepower at once, and his tires skipped over the sea swell before he could pull up once more. Looking back over his shoulder Zach saw two figures jump quickly into the sea as the cutter quickly became an inferno.

Zach flicked his radio to transmit on the general channel and eased out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "And cut- that's a print!" he reported. "Nice work by the stunt team."

Someone laughed drily and said "Let's hope they see that back in Hollywood." The voice which had first put out the alert spoke up, sounding pleased. "Thanks for that. There's a plate of clams and a jug of cool beer at my bar for you, whoever you are. And since I don't recognise your voice, I know you're not a regular so if any of you other damn pirates come and try to claim it I'll boot your asses back into the water."

Zach smiled to himself, but thought he'd better not spread his name about just yet. Fortunately Big John cut in and dealt with it for him. "That's good of you, Timo. I saw it, I'll point him out for you."

"Roger that, Big John. I thought I saw the Pandora pull in this morning. I'll see ya, then. Thanks, stranger!"

Zach flicked over to the Fortune Hunter's channel and was congratulated by the Pandora's helmsman. "Good work, but you better come in now. I don't think Nathan wanted you to get a reputation before lunchtime."

Still buzzing after the action, Zach spotted his zep' and turned towards it. "Affirmative, Pandora. On my way."

A few moments later he noticed a white and yellow plane rising towards him, the one which had been damaged by the Hollywood cutter. Zach got a close look at the graphic on its tail now, and could read the writing imposed over a confederate flag in the shape of old Louisiana. Two words- 'Ragin' Cajuns.'

The two pilots were close enough to see each other in their cockpits, although Zach couldn't make out much of the man's expression through his goggles and air mask. He flicked the radio back to the general frequency, in case the pilot was trying to communicate with him, but the chatter wasn't aimed at him. As they began to draw near to the Pandora however, the rival ganger peeled away and flew towards Sea Haven's harbour until he was lost among the other aircraft.

Aboard the Fortune Hunter's zep' Zach returned the smiles and mock salutes from the aircrew and made his way to the bridge, pausing along the way to have a glass of cordial and sandwich which the galley crew were setting out. Word had been spread around the zep' that there would be action later, and the Fortune Hunters liked to squeeze in a light lunch to keep their strength up. Anton Delacois was the galley master on the Pandora- and as Nathan had joked, he was a four-star chef. Anton had fled to north america after an affair with his employer's wife had made gainful employment in France very difficult to obtain. Yet his skills and training didn't serve him much better in New York since the depression had made even labourer's jobs sought after. It was after a mob boss had attempted to blackmail him into working for a pittance that Anton recklessly- or boldly, sabotaged the kingpin's 50th birthday party he was working at and had to flee the Empire State or wear the colloquial 'concrete overcoat'. Liking the man's courage, Nathan gave him a ride on the Pandora and the pair grew to respect each other. The Fortune Hunter offered the frenchman a job with pay much closer to his worth and Anton signed on, laughing about how it would look on his resume. Most of the time he was just organising food for twenty men, but he knew how to work to a budget and on special occasions he was able to put his talents to work on more gourmet dishes.

"Ah, Monsieur Chance!" Anton said brightly as he directed the galley hands. Although the food was simple it was obvious a professional chef was involved in its construction. The sandwich Zach was chewing was a single piece of bread rolled diagonally- exotic for a country boy. "We've not 'ad time to chat. I am Anton, proprietor of the Pandora's galley." Zach wiped his hand on his cargo pants and shook the strong hand Anton offered. "I am also in charge of keeping track of the scoreboard in the lounge." Zach had seen it, a list with the crew's names and small changable numbers indicating how many planes, zep's or 'others' they had downed. It was a source of humour and pride for the pirates, and of course Nathan Zachary led by far. "You just got off the mark I hear? I'll pin it up after I'm finished here."

Zach looked a bit embarrassed as he folded his arms. "Oh... thanks. I'm probably letting the team down at the moment?" Anton laughed and gestured at the galley crew.

"Hah! You're way ahead of us- we don't see much action in the kitchen!"

"You could slip something into food, get twenty all at once" Zach joked, and Anton shared his sense of humour. "Oui, yes. But I wouldn't work in the pirate catering business again. You might go to bed tonight with more than one notch on your gun, oui?"

Zach shrugged. "Well, probably not. Nathan wants me to stay on the Pandora while they do their thing. It's probably best until I get more experience." Anton stroked his small, tidily trimmed beard as he listened. "I've been flying for seven years, but it's only my third day as a sky pirate" Zach added wryly.

Anton smiled and turned to get back to work. "Well, a good wine improves with age, but a fire low on fuel will start to burn out..." the chef said cryptically. "But I would trust Nathan's judgement... except where woman are concerned. I'm sure we'll talk again soon, Mister Chance."

When he stepped on to the bridge Zach was greeted with wide smiles and several pats on the back. "Any word from Nathan or Miss Brooklyn?" he asked Big John, but it was Kipps who answered. "They're both on their way back."

Big John was peering intently through the armoured windows until he spotted an incoming Devastator and adjusted the Pandora so she was nose on in to the wind. "Betty said your distraction probably helped her out" he told Zach. "And Nathan said someone thought he'd sunk the Hollywood boat. It's kept people guessing..."

Twenty minutes later Nathan and Betty were aboard and planning their attack on the Ragin' Cajun fuel depots. Betty had located eight of them in an area around the inlet the rival gang had made their home on Socorro island. They had constructed a runway which jutted out into the sea, and a simple hangar in which to keep their planes. It was highly visible from the air, with its roof painted with an enormous version of the band's tail marking. "They took their carrier zep' out on a raid," Nathan told the bridge crew as they finalised their plan. "So we should strike while they have fewer defenders. Also, Doc told me they were pressuring him to sell his repair bay, so the sooner we put an end to their fuel monopoly dreams the better. We'll begin as soon as the planes are prepped- good luck everyone."

Zach walked with Nathan to the mess-hall where a few crew were quickly grabbing food to take back to their stations. "Nice work with the spy boat, Zach. Like I said, this place is called Sea Haven but you can't afford to relax too much. And next time before you jump in, make sure they're talking compensation."

Zach helped himself to a second serving of sandwiches and raised an eyebrow. "I thought this place would have a sort of community spirit or brotherhood against the law?" he said as he chewed. Nathan sniggered. "Heh, we all think like that until some so called buddy sells us out or tries to snatch our hard earned loot," he grinned. "I've been betrayed too many times to put too much trust in my fellow pirates. Idealism's good an' all, but it leaves your back a wide target for some grifter's knife."

"Ouch" Zach mumbled. "Were you always like this?"

"Lucas Miles," 'coughed' a weathered crewman, his gaze flicking at a buddy before back to his food.

For a moment Nathan almost looked hurt, or pensive. "I've just learnt you need to be careful about who your friends are, and then take care of the ones you can trust,"

He decided.

"Like Doc?" Zach said remembering how many times he'd heard the Pandora's crew mention him. Nathan smiled widely and began to move for the hangar. "That's right. He's a good friend; we go back to before the Depression". Nathan lowered his voice, his eyes twinkling boyishly. "He's working on a project for us right now, a modification to the fuel injection system for our planes that'll direct port nitrous oxide. The Doc's a certifiable genius, you can bet it'll make 'em spit fire and fly like lightning".

Zach watched as Nathan and Betty's Devastators cruised away to attack the Ragin' Cajun's fuel dumps. The Pandora rose higher into the sky to take in the scene and provide cover if necessary, although Big John's orders were to keep the zep' out trouble if possible. On the bridge Kipps was monitoring the radio traffic around Sea Haven, and on the Fortune Hunter's frequency Zach could hear Betty's voice taking on an edge of excitement. "There's one of the fuel dumps, Nathan. Let's be sure to get them all".

"Roger that. The fourth of July's gonna come early for those swampies. Let's go to work!"

From his vantage point above the island Zach saw the greasy orange ball of flame rise suddenly into the air. The attack was on! The two Devastators were fast and powerful planes, their rockets deadly ground attack weapons. After a few minutes they had destroyed four of the rival gang's fuel stockpiles. But the Ragin' Cajuns were now airborne, and Nathan and Betty had to divide their time now between attacking their targets on the ground and their opponents in the air.

"Big John!" Kipps suddenly called out in his well educated, almost English accent. "Ventral spotter reports an incoming wave of Cajun planes, bearing zero nine-three at 2000 feet and climbing. Intercept course for Pandora."

The tall Native American harrumphed, and spun the Pandora's wheel towards the heading to face the threat head on. He adjusted the port and starboard engine banks separately to turn the massive 500 foot zeppelin as quickly as possible. "Battlestations Red - Fire at will!" he ordered in a steady voice, the words soon echoed through the zep's interior speakers by the Gunnery Chief, Briggs. A moment later Zach could hear the muffled stutter of large calibre machine guns and see the tracer shells streaking like fireflies towards the enemy planes. Eight of the light Cajun raider planes began to swarm the Pandora, and Chance winced and started at each bullet which ricocheted of the armoured bridge windows or twanged into the duralumin structure. Hands clenched tensely, he moved to stand in the doorway and listened to the Pandora's crew work coolly around him. He hated not being able to act, and although they seemed in control Zach didn't want to leave the fighting to them.

"Engineering reports a possible fire in engine six," Kepplemore reported. "A lucky hit." Big John glanced at the dials set into his station console and nodded, yanking a lever hard. "Shutting it down; compensating. Close off the Bluegas," he said with easy confidence and his orders were relayed down the telephone to the mechanics. The Pandora's AA guns had already knocked out three of the Cajun planes, and although they had suffered widespread damage in return, so far it was only minimal.

Zach moved in behind Big John, keeping his voice discreetly lowered.

"Let me get out there... I'll make sure they don't do any more damage" he said carefully keeping undue excitement from his voice.

The Navajo kept his eyes forward as he maneuvered the Pandora to keep the zep' steady into the wind. "You heard Nathan, Zach. He thinks you should sit this one out. Don't worry- we can deal with them."

Zach sighed, but didn't want to distract Big John by arguing with him. There was suddenly a different noise in the symphony of guns, a boom-rush noise which Zach didn't recognise. Big John did, however, and he turned a puzzled eye towards Kipps. "Who are they trying to hit with that?" he asked. Zach saw that the radio man was listening intently to his head set, a sudden expression of worry on his face. He turned to the Pandora's helmsman and said loudly "It's the Cajun carrier Zep'- They've come back! Bearing 178 at 11000 feet, closing on us hard!"

Zach saw the look on Big John's face and knew the stakes had just been raised. "Sir!" he said loudly. "Three planes in the air are worth ten in the hangar... Permission to launch and defend the Pandora!"

The Navajo was spinning the rudder wheel hard, cranking up the Pandora's throttle as he went. "Coming about, elevators to full, emergency power to engines one to four." His brow was farrowed as he sized up the situation. "Briggs, turn the twenty mills loose on the carrier if it comes in range, but see if you can keep 'em at bay with the rocket turret. Fire at will."

The bruiser-like Briggs didn't talk much normally, and during combat he cut back the chatter even more. "Aye-aye," he growled, and grunted orders into his headset as he dropped down into the observation post in the turret beneath the bridge. The Pandora's engines roared as Big John pushed the big zep ahead at maximum speed, accelerating to just over seventy miles per hour. Out the front the Cajun carrier bore down from above, but they were forced to pitch forwards to try and prevent the Pandora from sneaking beneath her. Big John had Pandora tilting back far enough that both the dorsal and ventral rocket turrets could engage the enemy carrier. A rocket spat from the heavy turret mounted beneath the bridge and climbed towards the oncoming airship, detonating with a force which rippled the enemy zeppelin's frame and collapsed several ribs inwards . The Ragin' Cajun' planes dove down at full speed and strafed along the Pandora's flanks, punching hundreds of holes in her huge flanks and sparking off the armoured engine nacelles and crew superstructure.

"Kipps, tell the Chief to prepare for an immediate combat launch of Zach's plane. He's on his way, and I want him out there spitting hell in two minutes flat".

"Aye, skip!" Kipps nodded as he went to work and waved Zach away. The young pilot was already sprinting through the door and down the access way, pulling his flight gloves off his belt and tugging them on. The Pandora was his home now, and he wasn't about to let anyone shoot it down- and definitely not while he was on her!

The hangar bay was even louder than the bridge, and the open space reverberated with the throb of engines and guns. With tunnel vision Zach ran for his Devastator. A crewman already had her engines running and was standing nearby to help Zach mount up. Throwing himself into the cockpit Zach yanked on his helmet and flicked on the radio. "This is Chance- I'm good to go, let's fly!" he shouted. The warning lights in the launcher mechanism blinked on and Zach looked up at the control room above him. Louie Johnson gave him a thumbs ups, and the Devastator lurched into motion as the Pandor wheeled about into the wind again. Sunlight streamed brightly from below as the Hangar doors opened, and Zach knew that the bay would be vulnerable while they were open. He had to get airborne and into the fray quickly! A combat launch was definitely rougher and faster than a normal one. Zach had to deal with a cross wind and a hail of bullets, but suddenly he was diving clear of the Pandora and ramming the Devastator's throttle right up. With a whoop of glee he couldn't hold back Zach snap-rolled his plane and pulled up in an inverted climb- throwing off the Cajun plane which had dived toward him. The air was thick with targets, and Zach chose one swiftly and went after it like a loosed hound of hell. The quad heavy machine guns of his Devastator blazed, disintegrating a Cajun fighter under the perfectly aimed barrage. Without pausing Zach rolled into a dizzying turn and clamped onto the 'six' of another pirate. Smoke and flame filled the air as he throttled to within 200 feet of the Cajun and emptied a half second burst into his target. The pirate fighter exploded violently, and Zach pulled away just in time to avoid the spreading debris, pieces of wood and burning fabric bouncing off his wings.

On board the Pandora, Kipps reported what the turrets were seeing. "Sir, the gunners say Zach's ripping them apart out there..." he said with a quirky smile. Big John's face was stoic as he listened. "Briggs, turn the twenty mills loose on the Cajun zep'. Pound it with everything. We'll leave the fighters to Chance..."

Zach was flying superbly as he evaded the attacks of three Cajun planes and stuck to the tail of another like a sinister shadow. A rain of lead sent it spinning away from the dogfight, and he hauled his Devastator into a rolling turn to find his next target. He saw the Cajun carrier zep', and was impressed by its size. Wider and half as long again as the Pandora it had a broad runway atop the more oval shaped body. With more gas inside it could carry a greater load, and twenty planes could be kept on the zep's deck. She was an impressive sight, and gaudily painted in the Ragin' Cajun's colours and with a massive tricoleur flag across her nose. Zach's eyes snapped back to the dogfight, where he'd seen a Cajun fighter moving in to strafe the Pandora. It was flying too straight for too long, and he punished it without a moment's hesitation. His thumb flicked down on the button atop his flight stick, and with a hiss a 50mm rocket tube mounted under the lower wings spat forth an explosive metallic javalin. It was a risky shot, with his angle only just veering away from his own airship, but Zach's reflexes were awesome, his timing perfect. The rocket struck the enemy plane in the tail, blowing it in half with a fierce explosion.

It was a doubly impressive feat considering the rockets were intended for ground attack. Chance flicked his radio to transmit on the general 'line of sight' frequency programmed into radios as standard and cleared his throat. "Now that's a spicy gumbo!" he grinned. "Mamma must cook it hot. Better watch what you eat, boys - You don't wanna blow your asses off like that!"

There was a buzz of static and an angry, strongly accented voice spat back in frustration, "I'm gonna whoop you for that, Zachary!"

Zach frowned, wondering how the pilot knew his name, until he realised the Cajun probably thought he was _Nathan_ Zachary. He rolled his plane into a defensive pattern and replied with a half smile on his lips. "Nah, you boys are just an aerial marde gras... you don't have what it takes to beat a Fortune Hunter. How's your sister?"

There was a sudden rush of expletives, and Zach knew he'd hit a nerve. The odds were still 10 to 1, and the Cajuns were mad. Fighters which had been raking the Pandora with bullets now peeled off and went single-mindedly after Zach. The young crop duster let out a tense breath as he eyed the line of glinting planes darting like bees behind him. 'At least that takes some pressure off the Pandora...' he consoled himself, throwing his Devastator around wildly so that no one could get a clean shot lined up. They were still trying, and tracer fire streaked past his cockpit in angry streaks.

Zach's Devastator drove downward in a wide corkscrew, picking up airspeed as bullets pinged off his armour or punched through the thinner aluminium of the wings. He guessed his plane was faster and better armed than the Cajun craft, and probably handled better than theirs at higher altitudes, but he would be an easier target as he tried to climb. For a minute he evaded them whilst building speed and distance, then he made a fast one-eighty degree turn and drove back hard towards his pursuers. Going head to head with six enemy planes was probably a poor tactical decision, he noted. With that much firepower coming towards him he was likely to take the brunt of it, and even the Devastator's armoured cockpit wouldn't withstand such a concentrated attack. Zach lined up the lead plane in his sights, watched as the enemy tracer fire ached to reach him but just fell short. The Devastator's main guns were .50 calibre, and Zach was counting on the fact his shots would hurt more than his opponents. He squeezed the trigger in pulsing, measured bursts, his plane humming around him.

The lead Cajun burst into flame as a kilo of lead tore through the engine radiator and fuel pipes. Zach flipped his plane ninety degrees, re-aiming his sights and firing both his guns and rockets. Only the momentum he'd built up kept the shark-like fighter from stalling as he poured lead and explosive tipped projectiles into the incoming mob. The rocket smashed into an incoming plane and the resulting explosion ripped impressively down the pirate craft's fuselage. Debris spread in all directions, striking a trailing wingman who veered violently away. Zach's cannons blew the rudder off another plan, narrowly missing the enemy's cockpit and a brutal kill, but the result was still satisfactory. A Cajun fighter lost one wing, and spinning almost comically it fell from the sky. With no sense of up or down the pilot scrambled from his cockpit and let gravity take care of the details. There were rapid sounds like a taut wire being plucked as Zach's Devastator was struck by the incoming fire. Gritting his teeth Zach was almost surprised as he swept through the carnage all but unscathed... The Cajun pilots had all lost their nerve, and not one had continued to press home their attack. Checking his various temperature and pressure gauges the farm-boy saw nothing that would bring him down in the next couple of moments. With an elated smile, and feeling completely at home in the firm embrace of the Devastator's bucket seat, Zach allowed himself a rapid series of victory rolls as he sped towards the Pandora. "Good girl, Veronica" he smiled at the blonde taped to the right hand side of the cockpit. "Nice work, Ella" he said to the picture of the brunette on the left, winking at it as if passing her in the mainstreet of Apricot Hill. The attack against Pandora had been broken.

Red fuel drums flew skyward like the fiery quills of a porcupine, a black cloud of smoke quickly following.

"I think that's the last of them, boss" Betty called over the radio to Nathan. They had destroyed eight of the partially hidden depots and a handful of the Cajun planes, but it sounded like the real battle was taking place around the Pandora. Surprisingly, though, Big John hadn't called them back. The sky had cleared of non combatants as the denizens of Sea Haven had wisely given the dogfight a wide berth. What had begun as a skirmish had escalated into a full scale battle when the Cajun carrier zep' 'Acadian Spirit' had arrived unexpectedly from above the clouds, bringing with her another squadron of fighter planes. "Big John, what's your situation up there?" Nathan asked coolly. He gathered from the radio traffic they were holding their own.

There was a pause and a small burst of static as Kipps patched the Pandora's helmsman through.

"Nathan, are we getting paid enough for this kind of action?" The sensible Navajo asked. Nathan laughed and turned his plane towards the battle on the other side of Sea Haven, Betty forming up on his wing. "I doubt it Big John – But I'd mess with Thibodeaux for free. Let's just try and break even. How's the Pandora?"

"Holding up under the strain, boss, but that Cajun zep's making her ugly." There was a pause as Big John cleared his throat. "Er, Nathan, I sent Zach out to lend a hand..."

"That's your call. How's he doing?"

Big John was obviously smiling as he answered. "He's doin' the business boss. The kid's fragged maybe five or six planes so far. We're able to concentrate our firepower on the zep' now, and we're hurtin' them."

Nathan smiled in satisfaction, pleased that his gut feeling about the kid had been right. Zach was a born pilot with all the right instincts, reflexes and intangible qualities to be an ace. He had the dare-devil attitude which, as long as you had the right skills, gave you the edge over any normal pilot. He would have been wasted in the army, the best place for a man like that to shine was in the service of himself... Sky piracy. And an extra pilot of that calibre would make the Fortune Hunters quite a force to be reckoned with. "Good work, Big John, we're nearly there. Has Kipps located the Cajun frequency yet?'

"Sorry boss, I haven't had time to find it" the radio operator said.

Nathan shrugged. "Oh well, it's not like they speak ENGLISH anyway," he grinned. "Guess I'll just have to use the local frequency." He adjusted his radio and took a slow, deep breath before speaking. It was always good to appear calm and in control in a negotiation he thought.

"This is Nathan Zachary, leader of the Fortune Hunters. So, Thibodeaux... Got yourself a nice big zep' there, huh? How does that thing handle in a storm? Looks a little top heavy to me. Uh, and a little too _on fire_, for my tastes." There was silence for a few seconds, but Nathan was sure the leader of the Ragin' Cajuns would reply, if only to make the obligatory threats.

"Zachary- you sorry excuse for a swamp rat" came the reply, the accent thickly backwater Louisiana. "Why you wanna mess wit' our gas business? You English or what?"

Nathan laughed softly as he flew around the edge of Sea Haven and saw the battle in full. The Pandora and Acadian Spirit were almost jousting, their turrets pouring fire toward each other and creating a death zone that no plane dared fly through. A single Devastator buzzed around the parameter keeping the remaining Cajun fighters busy, occasionally taking a shot at one which strayed into its sights.

"Thibodeaux, you made it our business when you got heavy handed with our friends here," he explained grimly. "And if you don't want that pretty zep' of yours to go the same way, I suggest you call off your men and head home... To French Louisiana."

"You got a pretty big head, Zachary" Thibodeaux snorted. "And that makes a BIG target. My boys an' I gonna shoot you down like you was a dumb ole snipe."

A Cajun fighter burst into flame and Zach peeled his Devastator away from the action with a series of tight, flashy spins. Something in his engine was smoking, but enough cylinders were still firing smoothly so that he hadn't lost too much power. As Nathan and Betty reached the combat zone he pulled into formation with them.

"Hey ya, Zach" Betty called out over the Fortune Hunter's frequency. "Thanks for holding the fort and running interference for the Pandora".

Zach laughed quietly, throwing a salute through his bullet cracked canopy towards his companions. "No problem. Can we get stuck into that zep' now? It's such a big and tempting target."

Nathan sighed agreement with the sentiment. "Hmmm, well it looks like Thibodeaux needs some more convincing to bug out. Okay, Brooklyn, Chance, Let's make a run together. We'll each take a different angle so they have to divide their guns. Try and knock out a turret or engine, and stay clear of that crossfire zone. I'll take point."

"Sure thing, boss" Betty quipped.

"Roger that," Zach replied, taking a few deep breaths of air before the stress and concentration of action made it a consciously difficult act. He was eager to show his new captain that not only was he a good pilot, but he could follow orders too.

The Devastators swept in as one, moving into a triangular formation. The Acadian Spirit's AA turrets swivelled towards them, and the Fortune Hunters rolled and jinked quickly to evade the stream of gunfire they sent slashing across the sky at them. Zach came in upside down, his guns strafing as he lined up his target and sent a rocket streaking towards one of the carrier zep's portside engines. Pulling a tight barrel roll he came up behind Betty as she blazed into the Acadian Spirit's ventral gun turrets, adding his guns to hers. Nathan flew his plane with precision, and fired with telling accuracy. As the Devastators swept away, pulling apart and coming around like an acrobatic team, they left flaming and smoking wreckage behind them. The attack run had destroyed two engines, two turrets and a steering vein.

"I won't forget this you, bushwacker..." Thibodeaux growled, his accent thickening. But a moment later the Cajun planes began to pull away and the Acadian Spirit did its best to disengage with only half its engines working. The weapons fire began to lessen, and Nathan drew back to circle around the smoking hulk of the Pandora. "That's enough, let 'em crawl back to their swamp" he ordered, and suddenly the skies were silent and blue once more.

"Tell your sister I'll stop by for lemonade," Zach shot after the retreating planes, a barrage of almost incomprehensible Cajun cussing filling the radio in return.

"I think he's gonna keep a bullet with your name on it," Betty noted sagely.

Nathan chuckled and gazed over his airship as he slowed down and swept over her. "Big John, how're we lookin'?" he asked, wincing as one of the big zep's turbines suddenly snorted fire and jerked to a halt. The Pandora's sleek hull was riddled with holes, blackened and sagging in several places from leaking boyancy chambers.

"The Chief's got everything under control, Nathan" the helmsman assured him. "We're at half speed, but no serious fires or injuries reported. She'll stay airborne".

"She always does" Nathan smiled. "Kipps, put in a call to the Doc. Tell him we're coming in for repairs." He looked across to where Zach had formed up on his wing and was flying smoothly beside him. "Nice work, everyone... Mister Chance-" he said, pausing briefly as he began to smile. "You did us proud."

Zach grinned, finally letting himself relax and feeling his hands shake as the adrenalin began to ease. "Thanks, boss" he said, and if he hadn't felt like a Fortune Hunter before, from that day on he did.

**Chapter** **7**

One of the Crew.

The air was clouded with blue smoke, but from cigars rather than burning oil or Bluegas. The scene was no dog-fight, but it was just as loud, cluttered and intense. The Talespin Club was one of Chicago's most notorious joints, a place where excitement was never far away. It was supposed to be a place for pilots and aero-techs to relax, and they did, but the atmosphere was never sleepy. The Talespin was a regular stopover for the Fortune Hunters when they passed through Chicago, as it was for many of the sky's less salubrious characters. Stories and boasts were swapped between the crews, and taunts and threats were traded by those with fuming rivalries. Normally, however, it was considered neutral ground, and the establishment had plenty of toughs on hand to keep the peace. Any trouble-makers would likely be out-gunned, since the club had several old bombers jutting out from the walls as part of the decor. What the astute observer would notice though was that the gun turrets were manned by guards, and that the guns inside were in working order... The Talespin had you pinned.

Tonight the jazz was lively, and a couple of dancing girls were putting on a show for a handful of enamoured patrons. Booths and tables generally hugged the walls or various nooks, giving those seated privacy for the grey-market deals which tended to go down nightly. There were several gaming stations too where Blackjack, dice and roulette were played without the usual government interference, and if you were trusted you could get into a high-stakes poker game in one of the quiet side rooms. As many planes, businesses and trading rights passed hands during such games as money, and the Talespin Club could set you up or break you down just as easily. Zach preferred to keep his nose away from such risky twists of fate. The club had other lures... such as the personal assistant to the club's owner, Miss Selena Portman.

Zach scanned the room casually as he and a handful of the Pandora's command crew stepped out of the elevator and were bombarded by the chaotic atmosphere. It had taken Zach a couple of visits to get used to the Talespin... He'd been on edge, and slightly overwhelmed by the scale and people inside. Nathan Zachary had introduced him to a few of the regulars, but it was only when Selena Portman had appeared on a walkway above the main floor had he stopped cautiously eying every other man over 150 pounds and taken an interest in accompanying his friends to the club.

"I'm getting a martini, and ain't nobody better get in my way!" Betty proclaimed as she began striding towards the closest bar. Nathan quickly caught her by the arm and pulled her back, his expression discreet.

"Just remember to see if you can find out where Kahn is looking for a cheap helium source," he said quietly, although in a quiet room it would have been his normal speaking voice. "And keep it subtle".

Betty rolled her eyes and sighed. "Oh, c'mon-it's me" she snorted. Nathan exhanged a look with Zach, who grinned. Betty frowned at him, then smiled sarcastically and spun on her heels and strode into the club. Louie grinned as he pressed past Nathan with Briggs, their best gun fighter, following him.

"No comeback- she must really want that drink!"

Nathan cut a glance back at Zach as he started to move into the scene. "Be cool, kid. You got our backs, right?" he joked in reference to Zach's early paranoia.

"What, on MY wage?" Zach tossed back, continuing a running joke amongst the crew.

He moved to the 'blue collar' bar, which mostly catered to those who drank beer or the odd whiskey or moonshine style liquor. He popped a handful of complimentary peanuts into his mouth and waited for the barman to notice him before ordering a 'Chicago Tea'. He'd actually started drinking them back home after reading the recipe in an aero magazine - basically beer, lemon juice and ginger ale and garnished with mint. Not the hardest of drinks, but they tasted pretty darn refreshing and had devotees amongst those wanting to relax but keep their wits.

Zach took a few gulps and cast his eyes over the large windows which overlooked the club, angled like those of a runway control tower. Inside was the office of the Talespin's owner, Conway Sheldon, the youngest son of a minor English aristocrat who was rumoured to have made his capital with smuggling. Occasionally shadowy silhouettes could be seen through the darkened glass as someone looked down over the club.

Zach chewed absently on peanuts as he looked for his friends. Betty and her martini were working the other bar, and Nathan was chatting up contacts in the gaming area while Briggs and The Chief took in the show. Crossing his fingers that the captain wouldn't gamble away anything vital to the running of the zep' this time, Zach noticed the padded leather door to Mister Sheldon's office swing open. Several figures emerged- Sheldon, a chinese man in a fine suit, and a very beautiful young woman. There was general hand shaking and pleasantries, and then the woman began led the chinese businessman down the stairs to the club floor. Selena Portman was quite tall at 5ft 7, with a trim yet curvy build which suited the elegant blouse and skirt she wore. It had a low cut neckline that was flattering and uncommon, but Zach had been around enough to recognise it as a new french style only just being seen in the states-worn by daring and confident women. Her hair was a deep red, and pulled backwards into a deceptively complex looking design. Selena spoke with one of the Talespin's hefty security, smiled gracefully and indicated for the heavy to walk the visitor out. Zach was puzzled that Nathan had apparently never worked his magic on her... The sky-pirate had mentioned that she was young, and that he didn't want to have complications here at an important business venue. Considering the prize however, Zach was surprised he'd been able to rein in his instincts. Since he didn't know her well enough to make eye contact across the room, Zach sighed and turned back to the bar, swirling the last of the light amber liquid in his glass.

"She's a sight for eyes old and new, alright" grinned the bartender. Zach smiled in embarassment at being caught staring, and the man laughed. "Hah, don't worry- we all take a peak now and then, but I have to remember I have a wife at home! How about you?"

Zach shook his head and pushed his empty glass across the bar. "No, I move around a lot and there isn't much female company at 10,000 feet". The bartender laughed brought up a fresh glass.

"Nope, I guess not. I met my wife on a ship, though... Safest way to travel".

Zach laughed broadly and nodded. "Compared to the air? Y' got that right. I think I'd rather use a parachute than a life vest though... At least once you've used it you can feel solid earth under your feet in a few minutes."

The man winced, and started mixing a second Chicago Tea with practised speed and confident flourishes. "I don't think I could make myself jump..." he said ruefully, and Zach considered honestly how he'd feel. "I think it's easier than you think when your plane's on fire" he quipped dryly.

"Stop distracting the staff- it's not safe to talk and mix such powerful drinks" a warm voice said from one side. Selena was holding back a mischievous smile as she passed a clipboard to the barman, who raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Zach. The young pilot sat back on his stool and folded his arms as he shook his head in mock indignation. "I'll drink something harder when it tastes as good" he said narrowing his eyes, challenging her to mock his masculinity. Selena rose to the challenge with a straight face. "Of course. Even the hardest man drinks soda ocassionally."

Zach winced, and looked at the bartender for sympathy, who smiled and said "He did skol it back rather quickly, Miss Portman. Ten or twelve of these and he might feel a little tingly…"

"Ooooh," both Zach and Selena grinned at the bartender's taunt, Zach pretending it hurt his pride.

"Well, it was a double" Zach said in a falsely deep and course tone, and Selena could only keep her face straight a moment before she laughed.

Zach's drink was handed to him and the barkeeper began ticking and signing papers on the clipboard, keeping track of stock or other business.

Selena leant against a neighbouring stool and nodded at the club's gaming floor. "I saw your boss from upstairs. Is it business or pleasure? I've heard business has been good," she said congenially. Zach wondered if it was usually her business to know about sky-piracy as he met her gaze. Her eyes were wonderfully green and sparkled with intelligence and humour. "He'll probably manage to combine the two, especially if a wager is involved," Zach admitted, "But he's got stratium on his mind tonight".

Selena nodded and accepted the clipboard back from the bartender, who casually removed himself from the conversation by checking up on the drinkers to Zach's left. Selena seemed to relax slightly, and after a moment's thought she said in a low voice "Yes, I think I've heard people mention there's non-taxed helium floating about, but stratium's impossible to find."

Zach laughed freely, and Selena looked confused until he prompted her- "_Floating_ about...!" The red head giggled as she realised her pun, and sat down on the stool. They applauded the band which finished a song and announced a five minute break, and Zach sipped on his drink. "So, are you too much of a man to have tried one of these, or not enough of a woman?" he asked, letting his eyes flick briefly below her neck. Her mouth opened for an instant in surprise, and then she smirked and stared into his eyes intently. "What do you think?"

"I think, _Selena_, you wear that blouse well... Maybe a little TOO well?"

"Uh-oh, looks like you're on to me..." she purred after a pause, and Zach suddenly realised they were leaning quite close.

"Excuse me, Miss Portman" a heavy with a gravelly voice said. "The boss is getting ready to leave for his meeting at Bellini's... He's asking for the developer's report". Selena blinked and looked up with a polite but slightly frustrated expression.

"Right, thanks Harvey. I'll be up in a second." She started to stand, and smiled ruefully at Zach. "Back to work, then... Don't over-do those, okay? The Chi-town police don't like it when you boys drink and fly". Zach nodded and stood up, their bodies just close enough to be awkward for acquaintances, but neither took a step back.

"Bellini's?" he queried.

"It's a swanky restaurant with a good view of Lake Michigan" Selena told him, then her eyes fluttered briefly down and she added, "I won't be invited. My part ended with the accounting and typing..."

Zach realised she wanted him to know her relationship with Conway Sheldon was just business, despite her odd hours, but her coyness swiftly passed and her self-assurance returned. "Anyway, Mister Chance, enjoy your evening. Perhaps we'll see each other another time..."

"-It's Mister Chance" Zach said suddenly with a faint grin. Selena blinked and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I thought I did call you that..." she said, sounding a touch confused.

Zach shrugged. "Just call me".

Selena laughed softly and brushed a fetching strand of hair behind her ear in a demure gesture. "Haha, that's terrible! Fortunately I don't fall for smooth talkers. And I didn't know planes had telephone connections. Or do you live in Chicago?"

Zach sighed apologetically as he answered, "I only come through Chicago occasionally, but if you can get on a shortwave radio you can ridicule my drinking habits again. And please, call me Zach."

Selena nodded, and started to reply in a friendly tone when she noticed Conway Sheldon leaning out of his upstairs door and scanning the club for her. "Hey, I better go" she said, then leant closer so that she could lower her voice. "By the way, the good word is that a new supply of stratium might be located just over the border in Quebec, that a crude oil refinery was converted to LTA gases a few months back and they have some German backer..."

Zach's eyebrows rose in amazement at hearing this specific piece of information from her, and she smirked at his expression.

"I don't really know if that means anything to you, but working here I catch a lot of shop talk from people in your business. The source of _that_ particular piece of hear-say has his fingers in a lot of pies, and it is still a secret." As she started to turn away, Selena winked. "You can tell your boss you worked me for information, if you like".

As she moved swiftly across the club, passed a bouncer and skipped up the stairs to Sheldon's office, Zach followed her with his eyes. A firm tap on his shoulder turned him around, and Zach saw Betty standing there with a faint rouge glow to her cheeks. "We have to go, Nate's turned up a lead and we have to find someone west of the river before everyone else does".

"Oh," Zach answered dully. "Okay, you got your martini?"

"With an olive, just like in Monaco!" the blonde sky-pirate winked. Betty frowned as she noticed Zach cast a glance behind him as she tugged him towards the exit elevator where Nathan and Louie had gathered. "What's up? Were you having a good time?" she asked with a touch of empathy.

"I was starting to, although she had to go back to work too…" Zach told her as they walked. Betty's eyebrows lifted in elegant arcs as she smiled up at him. "SHE did, did she? Well those dancers are paid to be friendly..."

Zach elbowed her in the ribs and nodded to Nathan.

"Actually, I got my own tip-off about the stratium. I pumped Miss Portman for information". Zach grinned to himself, and Nathan nodded knowingly, giving the younger man a satisfied and encouraging look.

"Ugh, you two are just gettin' worse the more time you spend around each other!" Betty groaned, rolling her eyes in mock frustration. "You should listen to Briggs, Zach. He's got respect for women."

Briggs nodded at her and gave Zach a serious, stern look as the lift descended. "Right, Miss Charles" the former army sergeant agreed stoically. "Zach, always treat a woman like you treat your handgun. She can and will go off unexpectedly so keep her well lubricated and hold her firmly, but gently, as you-"

"ARRGHH, Men!" Betty moaned indignantly, blocking her ears and wishing there were a few more (plain looking) women on the crew, for times like this. Briggs couldn't quite keep the quirk of a grin off his chiseled features as he returned once more to his usual watchful quiet, the others laughing heartily at their friend's frustration.

By the early hours of the morning the Pandora was cruising north and had entered the airspace of Quebec. The pirates flew in darkness with their running lights off to avoid the notice of the patrolling Quebec air defence planes that usually kept an eye on the great lakes. Nathan's lead had turned out to be false, a small time dealer who had a decent shipment of stolen helium to unload but not a replenishing supply. Zach had passed on the tip from Selena to Kipps, and the scholar had quickly confirmed with some hurried research that a crude oil refinery had been planned near the shore of the lake, but never finished because of the Depression and chaos when North America fractured into a dozen co-dependant nations.

"Apparently, keeping the pipelines which brought down the crude from the Arctic from freezing and flowing like treacle was another problem they underestimated, and the cost of the plant sky-rocketed," Kipps explained, reading off the notes he'd made from his collection of Almanacs and encyclopedias. "The place was 60% finished and then mothballed," he added as he looked over his spectacles at Nathan. "But that was nearly ten years ago. It's reasonable and possible that someone converted it to production of Lighter Than Air gases, and since stratium needs to be made in a cool environment, they could be doing it here."

"How do you know that about stratium?" Nathan had asked, and Kipps only shrugged and explained that Wilheim Fassenbiender enjoyed explaining things to him because he often actually understood it.

"There's a barbed remark in there, somewhere" Nathan had mumbled, before slapping Zach on the shoulder for finding a decent lead and ordering Big John to set a course.


End file.
